There’s that feeling again. Relating to that sad, lonely moon. Loneliness is a shadow that just keeps following you and following you and following you everywhere you go.


Seal with a data-logger on it’s head. [x]
"LOOK! LOOK! I’M A NARWAL!"

Seal with a data-logger on it’s head. [x]

"LOOK! LOOK! I’M A NARWAL!"

apts/housing for rent on craigslist

800 ft². Hardwood floors we used to dance on. Do you remember that? Too many bottles of wine and and slow-dancing to Otis Redding at three in the morning. 1 tiny bedroom. 1 room filled with memories of your shoulder blades, your eyes opening in the morning. 1 bathroom with a slightly cracked mirror, a leaky shower head. White tiles. A large spidery crack in one of them from when we tried to have shower sex and I slipped and almost broke my ass. 1 wall we painted bright blue to remind us to keep dreaming, even when we gave up. Full kitchen. Dishwasher. A hole in the wall from before we got here. Water, trash, electric included. Smells like lost love, old love, dust on every windowsill. We used to love this place. You used to call me “baby” after you came. Coin-op laundry. A tree with pink flowers. A couch where we used to fall asleep sometimes. A light that never comes on. We used to love each other here.

We don’t live here anymore.

So, I guess my soul’s on Pinterest now…

So, I guess my soul’s on Pinterest now…

"

And silence, like darkness, can be kind; it, too, is a language.

"

Hanif Kureishi, Intimacy
nyphotoreview:

The dreamlike ‪#‎photography‬ of Hengki Koentjoro. ‪
For more, visit Colossal’s website.

nyphotoreview:

The dreamlike ‪#‎photography‬ of Hengki Koentjoro. 

For more, visit Colossal’s website.

Yelling at the Top of My Lungs in the Desert with No One to Yell Back

OHMYGOD FUCKING KISS ME

HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU FELT LIKE SCREAMING?

YES, I KNOW I’M YELLING.

YES, I KNOW THIS WILL FEEL LIKE TOO MUCH,
BUT SOMETIMES THAT’S THE ONLY WAY THESE
WORDS COME OUT
LIKE FISTS OR THUNDERSTORMS.

RIGHT NOW, I’M IN THE DESERT.

RIGHT NOW, THE SUN IS AN ANGRY CHILD.

WHY DO I KEEP WRITING ABOUT PEOPLE WHO
WILT LIKE ORCHIDS,
WHO KISS WITH BRICK?

I THINK IT’S BECAUSE I STILL FEEL LONELY.

I STILL FEEL LIKE A CRUSHED ANT BENEATH A BOOT.

SOMEBODY PLEASE JUST HOLD ME.

TELL ME ABOUT THE MOON
AND THE WIND AND THE WAY
SHE LOOKS WHEN SHE’S JUST ABOUT TO
SAY “I DON’T LOVE YOU ANYMORE.

LET ME GO.”

There’s nothing like feeling sad about stupid things and feeling stupid when you’re sad.

Tonight is lonely and sometimes the only thing that can cure that is a big fat moon and a ginormous slushy.