what if
21-year-old doodler who likes song lyrics and is trying to find the motivation to fix herself. That's about it.

My uncle once told me that in a riptide,
the waves are like a hand pulling you back.
I was always aware; cautious —
knowing the waves clung to bodies with a strong grip.
It wasn’t until the buoyant trait of my mind disengaged
with the insight of my stomach,
and I realized the waves have claws, too.

I wanted to watch the sunsets of your skin;
I caught you during the peak of your hurricane season.

In the wreck of your arms my uncle’s warnings washed away,
brutally devoured by the temper of your nature.
Yet I managed to remember a riptide is most common during
hurricane season,
but forgot to plant my feet securely in the ocean’s sand,
empowering you to drag me further from the shore.

The panic haunted my lungs but I swam,
knowing my breath would soon be limited.

How can the simple steps of survival
drown so quickly in the midst of panic?
How do we find ourselves as the attraction of disaster
when we try so hard to avoid it?

When will bodies float
and when will they sink?

Your strength enclosed my throat, and my ears plugged with water.
But through the pleas for air my memory
jogged warnings from the past —

“Do not fight the current, you will lose”

“Calmness will conserve you, panic will drown you”

“Swim parallel to the shore, to the horizon”

“Whatever you do,
survive the riptide”

Alessia Di Cesare, Survive The Riptide (via featherumbrellas)

(via 0aklungs)

There is a bird’s
nest inside of
my body,
and I am so sick
of turning myself
into a home
for things that
only know how
to fly away.

Y.Z (via rustyvoices)

(via 0aklungs)

Do you notice how people hurt each other nowadays?
Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 (via avvfvl)

(Source: loveless-people, via 0aklungs)

I love you. Remember. They cannot take it.
Lauren Oliver, Delirium  (via wordsnquotes)

(via 0aklungs)

I saw my earlier selves as different people, acquaintances I had outgrown. I wondered how I could ever have been some of them.
Roger Zelazny, The Courts of Chaos (via wordsnquotes)

(via 0aklungs)

Everyday you will find
I have fashioned myself
a new draft.
Finished pieces are for the dead.

Meaning in the Margins, by Brittany Rubio. (via songofanothersummer)

(via 0aklungs)

I hated you. I loved you, too.
Kate Bush, from Wuthering Heights (via violentwavesofemotion)

(via 0aklungs)