It was 3:33 and I could feel you right behind me.
Breathing down my neck from so many miles away.
There you were again, haunting me, taunting me.
Even long after you’ve been buried I can feel your fingertips trace over my skin just as I fall asleep.
Your smile is warm, even on rainy days.
I’m confused about how your presence makes me feel.
I’m not even sure that you were ever real…
(no idea where that came from, just felt like writing a new post of my own—-that’s pretty much my written word vomit)
Insomnia is a rapist. No matter how much I say no, it keeps going.
“I write differently from what I speak, I speak differently from what I think, I think differently from the way I ought to think, and so it all proceeds into deepest darkness.”—Franz Kafka (via ellietarajordan)
so let me get this straight. anti-choicers took $500,000 dollars worth of pennies and sealed them in a glass case as a “memorial” to “victims” of abortion. i’m going to say that again. these people have locked away $500,000 dollars as a “tribute” to dead blobs of cells instead of donating that money to actual living breathing children who don’t have basic necessities or homes.
What if you could trade someone you truly love from your life, that you could never get back, just to live out your life as your favorite character in a book you love? Would you take a leap of faith with me?