January 2011
I am continually baffled by positive response to 500 Days of Summer. I really don’t understand what people see in that film.
“You know, “I love you” is one of the greatest originally unoriginal phrases ever...”
– (via treeswithoutleaves)
How could you look me in the eyes and tell me that you love me and then leave me to spend the night in her bed.
“I stood willingly and gladly in the characters of everything—other people,...”
– Mary Oliver on “staying alive” in Blue Pastures (via melancholynotes)
locobanana-deactivated20110625- asked: I want to make your lips into paste and spread it on my toast.
“Everything was for tomorrow, but tomorrow never came. The present was only a...”
– Henry Miller (via thechocolatebrigade)
I don’t feel like things have changed. But they must have, somewhere along the line when I wasn’t paying attention, some things fell away and others latched on to me for dear life, not wanting to be discarded. When I was twelve I would go outside and I remember I would stay there and not want to find myself indoors till the sun had set and I had nowhere else to go. I don’t know...
I feel like we have separate lives. There’s the life I’m living when you’re not around. My regular life. And then there are these moments we share when we’re in the same place at the same time. I want you around for more than a day. More than two days. I want you all the time.
I love The Rocket Summer and Noah and the Whale. I just forgot, how much.
I want to get married. Probably not today or tomorrow, or even next year, but some day I will be someone’s wife. I will be proud to be someone’s wife. I want to be a mother. Probably not today or tomorrow, or even next year, but yeah, some day I want to be someone’s mother. I would be proud to be someone’s mother.
Some days I just don’t feel like going anywhere. I am not sad. I am not alone. I am not angry. I just, I want to be myself. Have time for me and my thoughts.
3 tags
currently while Australia sleeps Ebru is:
falserumours:
naked
in my awesome bed
it’s only 8.29 and im awake
who wants to make me breakfast
needs a cuddle
TUMBLE TUMBLR TUMBLE
I will be at your house in five minutes!
“When you stop [writing] you are as empty, and at the same time never empty but...”
– Hemingway, The Paris Review (1958)
We used to have urban picnics, where he would come wake me at noon and we would walk down to the fish’n’chip shop to buy burgers that barely fit into our hands, smothered in mayonaise. We would find a little lane to sit in, our backs against the old wooden fence, small stones digging into our legs. He would make me laugh, even though I didn’t feel much like laughing. And It was...
