218 bones are popping

sadly i think i may have outgrown this. that's not to say i won't ever be back when my head swells with thought (as it has been known to do) and i need a place to release the pressure.

i started this over a year ago and i've changed more than i'll ever be able to explain, but hopefully you know how i feel. i think everyone is entitled to this sort of transformation at some point in their lifetime, i'm lucky to have survived mine and i'm lucky it happened when it did.

i'm older than i was but i'm new. i'm learning to fight. i'm listening to music and hearing it for the first time. i'm in love. i'm less afraid. i'm proud, and i'm hopeful for my future and i'm hopeful for you. one breath at a time and eyes toward the sky, that's the only way i've ever found to stay sane.

217 my bones are paper and yours glass

i'm sick with guilt whenever my posts are dreary, i think about the people who read this and say it gives them hope or makes them smile and feel like i'm letting them down. i'm not responsible for anyone else's emotions blahblahblah but i always feel like i am.

i wrote this a long time ago, i've been debating whether or not to post it but heeeeey why not

Your collarbones are anchors keeping me here, grounded, and they are wings lifting me into light and sky and words floating around our heads. Fingers wrapped around our hearts. Our feet move with quiet deliberation to the sounds put forth by the black box across the room, and you can see the notes floating, the colors and lights are brighter with our eyes closed so we keep them that way. And we sway and we sway and the sun is jealous of my eyes for the shine in them, my knees are bruised but my cheeks glow and my heart is filled with your smiles and the ocean. Still with angels pressing my eyelids down soft, I can see the crinkles in the corner of your eyes when you laugh and the way dimples are tiny waves in the surface of the peaceful water that is your skin. Freckles like spots of the finest dirt you've ever seen or little chocolate spots on soft caramel and vanilla. My bones are paper and yours glass. I rip apart at the seams, heartwrenching and quiet and crying, and you shatter, violent and sudden and loud like someone yelling at you to get out of the way. Ribbons unravel from around my heart every time you kiss my lips or breathe on my neck but your heart stays hidden and tucked away like some treasure you're protecting from the world. All the gold coins and strings of pearl shining and luring in the girls and their lusting eyes, but you give them a glimpse and shut it back up, swallow the key. They'll never know what's at the bottom of that treasure chest but here I am leaning into you and our hearts are beating together and for a second even with my eyes closed I can see it in you, see the key and one day you'll press it into my palm and we'll both stare for a moment and then I'll open you up. Your eyes will be wide and your breath might be shallow and your hands might shake but you'll give up the hold you've had on your heart for so long and let it beat like it is supposed to, wild and free. All good things are wild and free, you told me once. And even though you disguised it expertly, I could feel the ache in your soul when you said it.

Someday ache will be gone and we'll dance and we'll sit in streets at midnight and watch the velvet in the sky with our fingers tangled together like the laces on your favorite sneakers. The wind will set fire to our cheeks and we'll dive headfirst and reckless into cool waters and watch our legs grow miles long under the surface. You'll rest on your side with your head propped on your hand as I read quietly; when I stumble over words you won't laugh. I'll watch you play your guitar and marvel at your hands; the way they move so softly across the strings like air or like clouds. Like your kisses and your fingertips.

216 no no no no no

my five year old niece just asked me who my best friend is and i said i don't know, i never thought this would be me, living in a shell too tired to even care about getting out of it

i'm spectacular at making the ugliest shit out of the most beautiful things

215 how in the

maybe later

214 step out the front door like a ghost

into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white

ugh, this fucking headache. and i am disgusted with myself again. everything hurts i'm bleeding out the brain i'm pretty sure and it's not even late but i'm about to turn out the hotel light and sleep in my jeans. hair falling in my eyes forget i'm breathing i can feel my bones grinding and i just want to go home right now, i just want to go home


she says, "shh, i know, i know it's only in my head"
but the girl on the car in the parking lot says
"man, you should try to take a shot
can't you see my walls are crumbling?"
then she looks up at the building, says
"i'm thinking of jumping,"
she says, "i'm sick and tired of life"
everybody's tired of something

when did this happen and why does that inevitable ghost always seep into my skin and freeze my bones when the sun has just begun to warm me again

213 flew

i slept for three hours and now it feels like morning. naps turn my day upside down, i feel like it's early morning, so early it's still dark out, and i should be going somewhere on a plane or a long car ride with pillows and sleeping on someone's shoulder in the backseat. headphones in, eyes closed, world flying by outside and i wouldn't even know

(by Könrad)

when i woke up i heard my mom and my aunt in the living room talking about when their mom died. they were really young, my mom was 17 and my aunt was even younger. my aunt said how she felt empty, my mom talked about how there was so much food left over after the funeral and how at her graduation she was so lonely because her mom wasn't there. the conversation somehow ended with my aunt complaining about her professor who says 'fuck' ten times every class. i got up and made some cereal and walked back into my room and was wondering if i have mono because i've been so tired, i feel like i could sleep for days or weeks and maybe when i woke up i wouldn't feel like taking things for granted anymore

212 walking crooked down the beach

she spits in the sand where their bones are bleaching

i'm frrrrreezing, wearing a hoodie and one of my favorite pairs of old washed out slumped over nearly shredded jeans and my legs are crossed and my feet are tucked in underneath them to keep them warm but still i'm so cold, my fingers are freezing like little icicles


sometimes i'm walking and i realize something and it's like a slap in the face or someone dropped something on my head from a second story window. today i realized how endless and pointless and destructive my habit of comparing myself to other people is, i tend to think that because somebody else is beautiful there's no way i am too. like there can only be one beautiful person in the world at any given moment and since it's obviously her, i must be nothing. i don't know, i don't really have anything to say could you tell




i'm going to tucson for another show over the weekend, i'm excited but i can't really get myself up to pack because i'm afraid to go in the kitchen, fuck meeeeee how stupid is this