🛌 archive

rip bedridden :( meet me on @heyitshatch

you sliced me loose and said it was Creation. i could still feel the knife.

things don’t always stop hurting, but you learn to make room for it. you learn to coexist with the hurt. it’s hard, and some days it’s so, so much worse than others, but it’s still worth it to try.

but when he loves me i feel like i'm floating when he calls me pretty i feel like somebody even when we fade eventually to nothing you will always be my favorite form of loving

“does it hurt?” asked the rabbit. “sometimes,” said the skin horse, for he was always truthful. “when you are real you don’t mind being hurt.”

i love you because i have to there is no why about it anymore than there's a reason why water vapor gathers in the sky

be proud of your place in the cosmos. it is small, and yet it is. how unlikely! how fantastic!

if jesus died for all our sins he left one behind, the body i'm in same hands that made the moon and the stars got carpal tunnel and forgot some parts i don't know what i believe but it's easier to think he made a mistake with me

i had been dead for billions of years before i was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.

i'm scared that i'm crazy but god help me, i'm twice as scared i'm sane 'cause then what excuse do i have for treating people like problems that need to be solved or explained

i have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. if i cannot satisfy the one, i will indulge the other

there’s so much anguish in your eyes, so much pain…

now take a good long look at what you've all done to me

i burn, i freeze; i am never warm. i am rigid; i forgot softness because it did not serve me.

flatline in the morning light, i held on so tight for so long, it's just not right

i was suffering from the kind of loneliness that never goes away.

“does it hurt?” asked the rabbit. “sometimes,” said the skin horse, for he was always truthful. “when you are real you don’t mind being hurt.”

the beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.

you are such a soft and messy thing. no one knows how to take care of you.