A crazy power outage with silent lightening. It’s surreal, laying here alone, wanting nothing more than to hold my baby close to my rapid beating heart. I hate the too-quiet, the where-are-the-flashlight? conversations with myself. I hate the house without alarms and I hate wondering if all the doors and windows are locked. I get fearful.

My ears are ringing so loudly right now. Like tolling bells and engines revving inside a tiny space. Now I just need to feel safe. And I am begging you to bring the weather to a lull.

Let’s hang out.

1,336 miles

And I have a headache that mounts by the minute. Battling with myself over whether or not this could be considered deceptive. I’m hoping my good intentions show through.

He takes my cheeks in his hands, and I wonder if he even knows that he has shown me a love that transcends. I’m imagining myself fifteen years from later, shuffling through the Polaroids of now that I am stacking in a converse box, wishing he was still my little boy. And he always will be, no matter his age, my grey hairs, my endless cigarettes. He will always hold my neck like I am beautiful.

I’m wearing a new perfume that smells like honeysuckle and virtually every piece of me is sweet. My hair is a rats nest and thirteen months ago, I would have ducked away from mirrors. Now I know who I am. I’ve seen this person shine through that I don’t even recognize. I love her so much it almost hurts.

And here I am, throwing away a marriage because I’ve been taken out like trash, asking myself how he discovered me and if he’ll ever think of me the way that you once did.

"Beautiful things happen when you distance yourself from negativity."

(via laughing-treees)

Bye bye!

(Source: thedailypozitive, via cat)

"1. Do not hate them for it. They are on a journey too.
2. Understand that sometimes you will be a bandage caressing a temporary wound or you will be a pinnacle of permanency rooted deeply in their heart. Accept that you do this to people too.
3. Do not step on your feet trying to find a rhythm you are not meant to follow.
4. Do not let it harden you: continue to nurture, continue to love.
5. People use words as anchors to latch onto bits of you and when they leave remind yourself that the sea never bled itself dry because a ship left it.
6. Write the nastiest letter and burn it.
7. Yes, they may have illuminated pieces of you that you were unaware existed. But now you do and they are not the last person to remind you.
8. Dizzy yourself with everything you love, like dancing in the greenhouse to horrid pop songs or reading Haruki Murakami.
9. Set all that anger ablaze, you are wasting your time sifting through it.
10. Internalize the fact that you were still breathing before you met them.
11. Forgive them."

what to do when people leave. (via herscience)

(via squeats)

Anonymous said: you and I would be so good together

Probably. I think I could be good with anyone.

Alisays.vsco.co. In which I photograph what it’s like, learning to be a mother:

Lately.

Thing

I am this tiny supernova
That loves to coddle the stars
With my skinned hands,
Overly hopeful that
Perhaps I am more than just this
Thing
Crashing through the open space
Like there are no walls
Anywhere.

I am this fragile, controlled person
With good intentions,
But sometimes I can’t do the right
Thing,
Planting my fears deep in the roots of
Someone else
As if they are my medicine and

I am this brash, irrational woman
Who still can’t believe she
Gave birth
To such a calm and gentle little boy
Because there is no such
Thing
As perfect, but he’s getting there,
And I,

I am getting there, like a Christmas tree,
Trimmed;
Like the N-24 that hugs Northern Boulevard and
Holds all these little people inside who just want to
Get there.

I am this mountain of bruises and
Orange light and
The sunset paints itself onto me because here’s the
Thing:
I can’t forget, forgive, get past what I’ve heard you say, how old I feel, how all my friends are settling into routine
Like they are librarians -
Hushed, filing their experiences away in a card catalogue and I am still
Holding on to this
Thing,
And I don’t even know what it is.