you are what you love, not who loves you

The Black Coffin Chapter 1: Rise - Wattpad

Hey guys! It has always been my dream to publish a book, and I’ve started to work on what will be my first novel. It would mean a lot to me to get feedback from fellow writers so I can see what is working and what isn’t working in my story. If you have time, give it a read and hit me with some honest criticisms. 

Thanks :)

I am learning how to compromise the wild dream ideals and the necessary realities without such screaming pain.

—Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, edited by Karen V. Kukil (via litverve)

(via first-things-first-imsurrealist)


isn’t it weird that you can have friends but also have no friends at the same time

(Source: bullied, via shaaaamee)

Anytime you’re gonna grow, you’re gonna lose something. You’re losing what you’re hanging onto to keep safe. You’re losing habits that you’re comfortable with, you’re losing familiarity.

—James Hillman (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: onlinecounsellingcollege, via chelsieautumn)

A Trip to the Grocery Store

Through aisles of colorful boxes, plastic sustenance 
I just see brands—certain kinds of things and the certain kind of people that purchase them
Women in sneakers and spandex buying Muscle Milk
Men with bellies and old age head for the beer isle
Children sit in the cart riding what to them feels like a roller coaster
They are unencumbered by the Sunday shopping
Their parents carrying the weight of the bags, the responsibility
Wallets pouring out everything they avoid setting free
No wrinkles on the dollar, but the face displays the stress
The lines, the result of raising children and working low-end jobs with even lower-end bosses and the simple fact
That the last vacation came years before
A thought bubble seems to form above every head I see
They all say
What am I doing here?


I know what I want to be
But I don’t really know how to be it
I have no guide, no bearded old man telling me that “love” is the answer to everything
I don’t know what kind of work is valuable
Or how to measure the amount of time that makes my writing worthwhile for the day
I am lost
In the endless online applications
Where I am not a face, but a list
Of certificates and skills
I believe to be made for a job,
But they tell I do not have the minimum
So I am dying
On a white mattress, sunk in from routine
Letting the seconds I have left to live
Slip by uselessly
Being angry instead of proactive
And complaining instead of loving
But with this headache comes the sorry truth
I am only human
And at this moment I care very little about the big picture
Because I am so unhappy in my tiny frame

The Fill

A night drive
In the lonely darkness, my headlights dominate
The music hums in through the speakers and I turn the dial
Higher it goes, the volume vibrates
The sound spills, pressurizing the space
It fills the car up so much that eventually it’s filling me
Art replaces the emptiness
And I
Can smile

Sara Bareilles

—Chandelier (Cover)


HAVE YOU HEARD Sara Bareilles’s cover of Sia’s Chandelier, because it is goddamn AMAZING.




Seriously. I was told that after graduating I would have a job guaranteed.