Being happy is a great thing! :)


bad one, devs


Ruby Taylor

"Nostalgia is a dirty liar that insists things were better than they seemed."

  (via disorder)
what happened to you and rachel?

i think we hit some bumps and grew apart. it is ok but sometimes i miss her because we were really really close.

"Growth is painful. Change is painful.But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don’t belong."

Mandy Hale (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

In May, I Moved Back Into The Past; that makes it pretty hard to let go. Now I drive the car where I sat in the backseat with my shirt off too many times and I’m accepting it I’m accepting the drive down Cooper Rd and sometimes I don’t even turn my head
But I always look at Rachel’s house and think of my Parking Lot Poems
Think of the mornings I spent there because for some reason the mornings are the most vivid. The mornings are the most vivid because

And if we’re being honest sometimes I miss that. These days it is about as hard to get out of bed as it might be to climb a tree with no branches. There is nothing to hold on to and I am constantly slipping, scraping myself into Reality. All I have are bad dreams and I am trying hard to forget them as soon as I open my eyes.

I think I think I could still grasp Rachel because we have something in common now that we didn’t have then: Jesus. But I think I am wrong: we are in the same ocean but our waves do not collide.

It’s easier to throw away The Mirror Room because half the things I said in there aren’t worth shit now and 
I thought I could do anything. I thought I was really capturing and I guess I was but it’s not worth a cent anymore. I blinked and now I’m on the outside looking in. But the weather is gorgeous out here.

The weather is gorgeous. I paint and make messes.
I miss Room 99 where I could truly pour myself and OK I miss the touching. I’m not good at hugging anyone anymore except Gavin and I’m glad I am not stretching my arms across the whole universe to hold everything everyone but at the same time I miss that sensuality, I think.

I miss theatre a lot. I miss my can of febreeze and my plastic water bottles. I miss the lines in my skin from safety pins and hems and mic cords. I miss being onstage. I miss the way my feet always hurt. Not at the heel; at the toes. Where the world happens. 

I think I am disappointed. I think I am bummed out that the stage (and what went on beneath) has become irrelevant. 

yes, I know I am

It is hard to let go. It is hard to let go and I am living in my basement. A few yards away there are boxes and boxes of puzzle-piece memories. I keep my gaze straight ahead when I walk past, walk quick to the laundry machines. 

I want to go back to the place where I began Living again. Where I opened my eyes and saw something else. Where I stepped outside.

And the weather is beautiful out here. But all the houses are made of glass. I can see everything.

I have become boring and happy


Esther 4:14