Inhale. Exhale.

Van Gogh ate yellow paint
because he thought it would make him feel happiness

Well I’ve been painting
for almost 3 years
And my organs are angry
because I’ve got nothing in me
but smoke and ash

Sometimes I think I deserve this.
Maybe it was the countless times I pushed someone away
Into a friend zone
Or out
Maybe I’m not that great of a person
After all
I think I think too much

Once when I was 6, I got lost at Disney World.
And although I knew my mom was worried, 
I knew I was born an explorer
And that I could find what or whoever I wanted.

12 years later, I’m doing the same thing.
But this time, I’m lacking the confidence.
Because they don’t hand out directions to a place called home.
And the punches we throw just to feel alive, look similar enough to the galaxy.

They say there are 206 bones in the body
but mine is just composed of natural disasters
and apathy.
And from the day you lit that lighter for me, 
I’ve become walking smoke.

Stories say that when you’re dying
you see beautiful things.
you see God.
It may have been the deathbed visions, the dmt, or lack of oxygen,
But I couldn’t get your freckles out of my head that Saturday night.

And although we always fall for the same person,
over and over
And at times we fall in love with sadness
maybe God does exist.
Because although I felt those three nails in me last Friday night. 
I also felt love.
And although I may not be a great explorer,
or a great lover,
sometimes life isn’t about finding a boy,
it’s about finding yourself.

(Source: eyeslikeakaleidoscope)

I never understood why my mother ruined her lungs.
I would come home from school with pictures
of before and after someone started smoking, hoping to scare her into stopping.
It just seemed absurd, how she was killing herself slowly.

Today, I understood that craving.
The whole wanting something that isn’t good for you.
Even after I finished my cigarette.

She never quit.
And although I’m killing myself slowly, I’ve never felt so alive.

My mother always taught me to be a kind person.
Feed the stray dog.
Hand the homeless a few bucks.
But she never prepared me for
the explosions in my stomach
or the constant leaving and the never arriving.
or how to say no to cute boys with soft lips,
and although it seems like he likes you, there’s always another girl.
Or that being intoxicated on a Tuesday night is a better feeling than good grades and loneliness.

It’s just really weird seeing someone you used to care a lot about, care a lot about someone else.

(Source: eyeslikeakaleidoscope)

(Source: eyeslikeakaleidoscope)

My problem is I get attached to people too fucking quickly, and drop people too fucking easily. And the fact that someone can do the same to me is the scariest thought I can imagine.

(Source: eyeslikeakaleidoscope)

I used to think that I was crazy.
The type that have to take medicine to get by.

I used to only think in negatives
searching and hoping for a positive.

I used to (and still at times do) think that I thought in a complex way
and that it was impossible for anyone to understand me.

But then I realized, I’m only human.

I don’t have to give my soul to the beautiful, or the evil.
My words may have vanished, but who the hell knows if they were ever even there.
And sure I am moderately happy, but who knows how long that will last.

And you know what?
That’s okay. 

(Source: eyeslikeakaleidoscope)

I hate it when people are all “Love is a word that is over-used”.
I think it should be.
I want to fall in love with as many people and places as I can. And I don’t think you have to know if someone prefers to read the book or see the movie, or how they like their coffee, to really love them. Sometimes, especially lately, I meet people who are so interesting or special or something- that I just want to love them. And spend time with them. And, although this has resulted in me pushing myself away from them, because I feel too overbearing or annoying, in a way I like that about myself. That I can love someone so much. It kind of reminds me of how children love, you know?

(Source: eyeslikeakaleidoscope)

I listened to your soul tonight
although it was slurred with alcohol and a broken heart
you can crucify me like Jesus 
you can lay me out and inhale all my secrets
But I wont come back in three days
because i just want someone who will listen
to all my words and all my funny flaws
because THE mirror doesn talk back
and I was born to leave

and i know i don’t love you
i just want to love myself.

So often, as I’m walking through campus, and just life in general, I see certain people. I notice them. They’re usually no different than most people. But I just want to get to know them. I want to know their stories. And I hope that I am one of those people to others.

(Source: eyeslikeakaleidoscope)

When I was little, I would sit on those hard seats and watch as people would cry for God. I used to think that something was wrong with me because I never knew why everyone was crying and why I wasn’t in church. I would close my eyes and think of the most cruel things, just so I could fit in. But tonight, I witnessed it in another form, and it make me sad because I now know they were tears of joy. I want that.

Although it seldom happens, I love being that person to cheer another up. Being able to take someone out of their gloom for 5 minutes is the best feeling in the world.

Do you ever just want to be somebody else? Not in a sad, depressed way, but in a way where you just want to wake up slightly confused and not know what lies ahead. To experience someone else’s life; to see if it’s better, or worse. To feel what they feel; to see things the way they see them. 

(Source: eyeslikeakaleidoscope)