Aesthetic Words

Eggnog is trash

lucidnee:

lucidnee:

cranberry sauce is trash

Rum cake is trash

Thanksgiving is trash

(via izlabonita-deactivated20180517)

motiya:

I hope the universe blesses you with a moment of peace this week. You’re doing the right thing, and you’re going to be okay.

(via izlabonita-deactivated20180517)

The letter I wanted to receive from her but wrote for her and for me instead

rulesofearth:

I tried to believe you and all the ways you said we were no good for each other.  Every angle of your wild story of us was fraught with error, horrible exaggeration, solipsistic anachronism and unexpected hyperbole.  What were you thinking?  That wasn’t how it really happened.  Was it? So instead, I reread all your letters and found the ghosts you’d been hiding in the paragraphs and turns of phrase.  Every stack of words sliding sideways to reveal passage ways and abandoned catacombs.  I hadn’t noticed, really noticed, how haunted you were.  I mistook your smile and missed the trembling fear that gripped your sideways smirk. I looked and saw only the sun and you trusted the light in my eyes as long as you could see it reflected there. I tried and I just can’t forget the angels I heard singing.  I knew I could finally have eyes that see and ears that hear again. The stars laughed at their own arrangements while others fell from heaven to give the signs we longed for. Good omens.  The moon rolled around and gave us gravity for our oceans.  And the trees clapped their hands.  The hilarious thrill of it all. I caught my breath staring at that one picture you’d sent to me.  Your head on a pillow.  Blurry soft yellow light made your skin glow.  Just you.  Those fucking pouting puckered lips and innocent happy smile.  You were happy there.  I do believe. For a moment I could see inside your eyes again and I felt my heart become unhinged and drop, somewhere in memories abyss, down deep I heard the hollow break of missing you. I exhaled the cold mountain air from my lungs.  My breath remaining before me for mere seconds telling the parable of a man’s days.  Flash in the pan existence. Here and gone so quickly.  The shooting stars.   So I’m here to set this garbled story straight.  My version is my own and its the only inspired and authorized version I know.  The good news that the angels so joyfully proclaimed, their laughter that made our stars shine brighter.  The sunrise and the sunset each, the glorious opposite twin bright eyes of beginning and end.  This daily Alpha and Omega our own eyes can see. but for us, at least for you and me, it’s all a lie.  We never loved each other.  I was wrong.  It wasn’t true.  You never loved me and I never loved you.  It wasn’t happy and the tale is through. And yet, and yet and yet…I sometimes think I still hear an angel choir and turn to look on high when I catch stars dancing from the corner of my eye.

(via rulesofearth-deactivated2022031)