Never Enough - Tumblr Posts
MOREEEE
here are some pics that scream stoner!bf!Noah while i finish writing some thoughts to post later @somebodyllelse
+bonus
he would so send u shit like this because he is indeed over being away from you, because who's gonna roll joints for you when he's gone???? who's gonna light them up for you if not him???? who's gonna suck his dick when he gets high if you're not there????
About this time three years ago our his basement flooded which led to us gutting and reframing the basement.
The day it happened, my parents' basement, with whome I was living, also flooded. I had to call into work to help them keep the water at bay.
Then he called and he snapped his fingers and I left my parents and went running over to help him. Only one other person stopped by during the whole process - his dad to drop off a shop vac. No one else came, no one else helped.
When I arrived I walked down the stairs. I could tell he was upset, and I was already anxious but I wanted to try to comfort him.
I opened my mouth to say hello, but didn't get the word out of my mouth before he had punched me in the chest so hard that it knocked me back against the stairs and the wind out of me. He also told me that if I did one thing to upset him, he'd give me a few to the head.
I spent the next 16 hours removing water from his basement along with carpet, flooring, heavy furniture and drywall.
I don't think I spoke.
Little white flower
In the middle of winter, a curious boy wonders into the woods. And footprints he leaves while making his way through the snow. But in the distance, he sees a little white flower, almost missing it by the way it blended with the scene. Wanderlust, he walks towards it intrigued by what he thought was a rare plant. A frozen lake surrounds it. With careful steps, the boy tries to get close to the exquisite beauty. So little by little, the boy gets close and the flower blooms as much as it can with the warmth the boy providing. The type of warmth it yearned for. Admiring an enigma the boy’s eyes never left the plant, but with every second he passed with said flower he realized that there wasn’t anything about it truly amazing.Nothing that made him feel something.However while captivated by the site the ice cracks beneath him and he falls into the frozen water. Hurriedly he climbs out trying to remain conscious. Upon seeing the flower again his gaze changes from one of complete admiration and curiosity to one of complete abhor. How could he ever risk his life for something like that? He asked himself in frustration and anger. It isn’t even pretty, maybe not knowing what it truly was made it intriguing but nothing more. He felt nothing. And just as he quickly as he came he left.
And maybe that’s why you left. Maybe that’s why everyone leaves eventually. Because I’m not a poetic disaster that enamours those around it with my flaws. Because I’m not a bewitching lotus flower that has grown in the most unexpected of places. I just happen to be the one that is never enough.
I always feel like I'm teetering on a ledge where I am simultaneously too much and still never enough... for anyone.
abuelita
My mother sent me four pictures of her mothers hands, Hands smoothed down by almost a century of living. She looks so much smaller than I can ever remember. When did so much time pass? I lived with closed eyes for so long and let years blend into one another. Now I’m sleeping beside the clock with tears in my eyes, Whispering to the hours like a lover that doesn’t want to stay, ‘Please, just a little longer. That’s all I’m asking.’ Her hands look fragile, bruised but beautiful. The skin looks soft and borrowed, Like wearing your older brothers jacket that’s just a little too big. She doesn’t know she’s magic. She doesn’t know, but we do. Her hands built the love th us at we take shelter below, If you leave, what will we do when it rains? Her hands. They used to tie clumsy ponytails in my hair with tape and bread ties. Her hands are the reason each time I smell cilantro, I feel like I’m home. They wrote broken English birthday cards to me for a quarter of a century. I saved every one. ‘Keisy, 10.00. No cigerate. Abuela loves you mucho mucho.’ Sometimes I bought cigarettes, but it was the guiltiest 6 dollars I ever spent. Her hands attached to the arms that held me as a little girl when i would run down the hall to sleep in her bed. They were as comforting then as they were when 20 years went by and I was creating my own nightmares. Her hands have held the phone to her ear each time I called for almost three decades. She told me it would be okay no matter what I told her. She loved me without condition, Anything from heartbreak to heroin. Nothing could change that. My Abuela, Constant as a northern star. She said it would be okay and even if it didn’t seem like it at the time, It became so. It is. How can she not know she’s magic? I must remember her hands for all they’ve done. They never built skyscrapers or painted a masterpiece, But neither of those could compare to what they have created. I wonder if she remembers what I felt like to touch my grandfather’s cheek for the first time. God, so much time has passed without our permission. I know it will not slow, no matter how desperate the crack in our voices sound. It is such a miracle that your life and mine have happened together, 90 more years would never be enough. I knew I would never be prepared, and I never will be. I will never forget the beauty her hands created, It lives inside of me each day. Its been all around since before my memory. There must be something wrong with the pictures, I guess. She looks so tiny, But I can’t ever remember her being an inch under ten feet tall.
I know, I say "sorry" a lot. But what can I do when I feel this metaphysical guilt for being alive? Like I am guilty of commiting the crime of existing in this world...?
I need a break from myself. How do I do that without killing myself...?
I am emotionally fucked up...
me, every day: i just dont have the energy for this today
I just checked how many calories were in my dinner with family.... it is so freaking high number, that I just want to throw up... I guess I will not eat anything tomorrow...
I feel disgusting.
cenin
Not to sound edgy but I wish I was stable enough for love
If those are supposed to be the best years of my life then I dont don't wanna know what comes next
being sad is exhausting.
Woman for a minute
I a m writing here, because I have to write it down somewhere. It can be seen as whining or crying without doing anything for a change. I'm trying, im always trying, but losing weight is a long and hard road, and I still have these little thoughts in my head, and they wont ever leave.
I am a big girl, i have always been a big girl, not just my weight but my height. When my stomach was completely flat, my arms were normal, I was still considered as a big girl, because i'm a wide and tall type. My parents were this type too, i can't help it, i have always been the big girl.
I can lose weight, im capable of losing any weight if want to do it, but i will never be skinny because of my wideness and tallness. Body types and proportions are fucking bullshit. And i know i wont be skinny ever, maybe just more acceptable for the society, but never the pretty girl.
Never the pretty girl, never the gorgeous woman, never somebody other calls beautiful.
I had boyfriends, I had affairs, I had boys and several man in my life, dont get me wrong, some men found me desirable. But i was never the pretty girl.
I never sat in someones lap. I never was the cute, fragile, petite girl, I never was the first love interest. I was never considered as a WOMAN. A feminine woman. I was always considered the big, clumsy one. The one who is loud, because no matter how shy and quiet i was, i was big, and being big is being loud.
If a skinny, petite girl wears her hair in a messy bun, not wearing make up, wearing comfy clothes or eating a big meal, they considered cute. If i would do the same, i would be considered unhygienic, lazy, and a gluttonous pig.
No matter the style im trying in clothes, no matter if I wear skirts and dresses, i would never be considered as a pretty, feminine woman. No matter how much I pay for a hair and nail stylist, no matter how much makeup or cute jewelries I wear, i will never be the pretty girly girl, because i will always be too big for it. I will always be considered as a bro.
And it fucking hurts. I want to be a WOMAN. I want to be FEMININE. I dont wanna look like a caring mother or an old aunt, I wanna be the cute girl, I wanna be the girl men call pretty. I wanna be able sit on a man's lap, or to be on top without the fear of hurting them. I want to be little, small, petite...a girl a man could pick up and carry in his arms. I want to be treated as a woman, not a bro, not a friend like the boys. I never got a flower from a man, i have never been in a proper date. I want to be treated as a woman.
But i wont...I wont ever be the pretty girl.
Not even for a minute.
🖤
today i'm in process of 5th bat on my body ❤️
done 😍
today i'm in process of 5th bat on my body ❤️
Never Enough - One Direction