I’m working with CVR//CHRG, a local group of journalists/photographers that keep up with the music and art scene, as a photographer. I’m so excited to be presented with this opportunity and all the people I’ve met are truly phenomenal. Go check out the page, like us and show support.

While you were watching someone else
I stared at you and cut myself
That’s all I’ll do cause I’m not free
A fugitive too dull to flee

Miss someone until they come back, or until you come back, until their absence in your life becomes something to be avoided at all costs.

Miss them until you don’t have to anymore, until you’re reunited in your favorite booth in your favorite restaurant ordering your favorite meal, miss them until it feels like you never left.

Or miss them until you can’t anymore, until the things you miss are identified and cataloged as things and not a person, until you figure out that easy company and long talks and unblinking, all-knowing eye contact will find you again the way they found you the first time.

Miss someone until you don’t.

Stephanie Georgopulus (via coquiagneblues)

(Source: difficile-iter, via coquiagneblues)

You said you hate my suffering
and you understood,
and you’d take care of me.
You’d always be there;
Well, where are you now?

(Source: frizzell)

You have no idea what a poor opinion I have of myself and how little I deserve it.

William S. Gilbert

(Source: frizzell)

Modest Mouse - Trailer Trash

I realized how much I rely on others to receive gratification, esteem and many other things that I should be doing for myself, by myself. And, in the wake of understanding and trying to improve everything, I can finally see how pathetic I am inside. How someone perceives my looks should not deflate me to nothing, I should be amazed at how I even came to be. I should feel a lot more luckier than I have been, to know that I came out as this- not anything else, not a plant or an insect, but I was lucky enough to just be a human. I take that for granted, living that is, and I never really understood just the potential I have for even breathing. I’ve been so wrapped up in being aesthetically pleasing and interesting to everyone else that I’ve forgotten how to just be, and how to enjoy the quirky intricacies that make up who I am, even if it is how one of my eyebrows slants a bit further down than the other or the way my body has a natural line on my stomach that makes me feel larger than others. Or how obnoxious my laugh is, or how long my toes are. It just doesn’t matter when I start to peer out into the larger portrait of my life. All of these small, insignificant insecurities have been holding me back for years, and I just sat there and allowed them to consume every inch of confidence that I should be having in myself. I should be a lot more grateful for what I do have, and stop pondering on what I could have had or been. I think it’s time to mature, and start a healthy self-loving process. Because, I’m not this intimidating, cold person. I’ve just been hiding in a shell of walls that I subconsciously built up from all the pain I went through. And now? Now I’m going to try to see things in a better light, and hopefully start seeing more rays of it from the walls that I cast myself into.

(Source: frizzell)

When my nervous fingers

reach the southern tip of

my own bliss,

I find that there is no euphoric climax

or subtle tingling from

my toes to my brain.

No oxytocin, no chemicals 

that release out into the saddest

parts of this mind.

There is only white, hot pain

erupting like a volcano, 

pleading for me to stop and

asking for forgiveness.

My hands grip the sheets

as if I was holding on for my life,

tears retreating down the hills

and slopes of my face;

my soul breaks as I realize

what is wrong with my body

and that there will be no heavenly ringing 

that echoes into my ears,

my body will never rise from the ground

or connect with yours.

So, I sink further down into

my mattress, hoping to find

comfort in rusty springs

that seem to sigh as loudly

as I do.

That awkward moment when you’re really into fucking your girlfriend and it’s just about to get good…. then her parents walk in the door.

(Source: cruciale)