22. Cowlorado. The Den. You may dub me Brooke. Baltering. Yoga.

A.M. (via adrianaintheraw)

(via adrianaintheraw)

I don’t need you.
I laugh as I pour my drinks.
Scoffing at those who drink red wine
As you did.
As we did.
I forget what it was like to be needed, but I know how it is to need.
The scent of vodka emerges from my heavy breath.
.23 yes, I can feel myself going.
The signature slurry words.
But at least these words are no longer for you.
Tipsy dancing with strangers,
Graceful fucking.
I’ve moved on.
I can forget without trying.
I do not need you.

I black out your face in photographs.
Who knew that the sharpies
we once used to draw our names on each other’s hands
could have such angry merit.
You said you wanted me
to think of you
every time I went to grab.
Hands closed I needed you.
Hands open I needed you.
But now I am screaming with a pen.
Bleeding out in ink.
It spills everywhere, drowning what once was.
But can never be again.
I want to erase you from my life and draw a new.
I want you to see me.
I want you to see.

Shattered dishes, broken mirrors.
I DONT NEED YOU, I scream.
The sounds suffocate you.
Your muffled screams will not draw me back in.
Not this time.
I will hypnotize myself into moving on.
I will carve out a new person.
Construct a new life.
Not bones, but flesh this time.
Fleshy-fleshy,
and I am not sorry.
I don’t need you.
I don’t need you.
I don’t need you.

I burn the bridges,
Rip up the map.
I will not find my way back to you.
I will not even try.
I erase your voicemails because
Now MY voice is the only one that matters.
I am resounding, vast, my voice radiates through the empty walls
of the church I went to
to pray for my salvation.
It echoes and I am taken aback by my own ferocity.
I am marching on.
Yes, yes, yes.

On the way back home
I am sure not to drive past your house.
Not this time.
You linger, but I do not stay.
I turn the wheel fast, I am not looking back.
You were my blind spot.
It may take a while for the scent to fade, but I am not staying.
I have places to go.
There are people I still want to be.
Lives I still want to live.
The years it took to realize
that I am not trapped, not limited,
are enough to make me weep.
I look at the sky and no longer fear its vastness.
I am vast, too.
My only regret is apologizing for the space I took up.

I find pieces of you everywhere-
shards of broken glass,
Wine bottles we smashed in rage.
You are embedded into me
and you love it.
But you don’t frighten me anymore.
I pluck you out, piece by piece.
I craft you into something beautiful.
My hands no longer only reach or take.
They are not simply closed or open.
Now these hands can create.
And I shape myself into someone I love.
I craft my life into one that is worth living.
And I live.

The memory of you doesn’t sting as much anymore.
Your face is not one I care to paint pictures of.
The photographs of you, with bits of me serve better as fuel
For my fires.
I am not a background image,
I am not shying into the distance.
I am my own show.
I am my own masterpiece.
I am burning the past.
You showed me all that I didn’t want to be.
And for that, I thank you.
For that I love you.

But I do not need you.
I do not need you.
I do not need you.
I do not need you.

Notes
121
Posted
4 days ago

Last night’s bath time snaps.

Posted
4 days ago

Cheryl Strayed (via wwwsally)

(Source: the-healing-nest, via adrianaintheraw)

Nobody will protect you from your suffering. You can’t cry it away or eat it away or starve it away or walk it away or punch it away or even therapy it away. It’s just there, and you have to survive it. You have to endure it. You have to live through it and love it and move on and be better for it and run as far as you can in the direction of your best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by your own desire to heal.
Notes
22514
Posted
4 days ago

Sylvia Plath (via insomnials)

(via lovelyandstuff)

Perhaps some day I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.
Notes
62
Posted
4 days ago

theunimaginables:

If you really loved me, you’d reblog my selfies.

(Source: theunimaginables, via stevosmusic12)

Notes
243
Posted
5 days ago
andyfluffbutt:

japhers:

folwer:

but its important

IM SORRY BUT IM DYING THEY LOOK LIKE A BOY BAND


Why am I suddenly attracted to a cactus I hate this website


Omg

andyfluffbutt:

japhers:

folwer:

but its important

IM SORRY BUT IM DYING THEY LOOK LIKE A BOY BAND

Why am I suddenly attracted to a cactus I hate this website

Omg

(via passionate-cunt)

Notes
368795
Posted
5 days ago

So, do I look sconed? It was a long/big week.

Posted
5 days ago

ethiopienne:

"sorry i didn’t respond to your text i was disenchanted with the entire human experience," a thrilling new memoir by me

(via wellmetkinsman)

Notes
42540
Posted
5 days ago
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