this is me .

my name is saskia . and well... ^ this is me

i guess i'm lonely and alone


a boy told me that
i hide my emotions
too much
and it’s not good for me
i wondered if it’s because
he could see the smiles
absent from my eyes

i talk to the furniture in my room
and cast wishes onto
the car lights
that wave their glows
in arcs across my window
when they bend the curve at the end…

The first time I met you
I said, “Hey there”
Because when I was just
Five years old
My mother taught me that
The only way to make friends
Was to be kind
And now I’m sixteen and I realize that
It’s not the same anymore
Because kindness
Doesn’t mean a thing anymore
When you’re too tired
To get out of bed
When you feel so mentally exhausted that
Getting out of bed
Will make you feel like
You will shatter into a million different pieces
And have no way to clean it up
This is how my story goes.
I live in a world where being sad
Does not count for anything
I live in a world
Where teachers don’t care
That you were screaming bloody murder
The night before
Clawing your skin with sharpened nails
Making yourself bleed and cry with all of your worthless thoughts
And telling yourself over and over
“Who cares? Who cares?”
They just want to know
“Why the fuck didn’t you do your homework?”
“You had all night.”
This is how my story goes.
I live in a world where
Instead of saying, “I hope you feel better”
To someone who is crying
I tell my friends to take care of themselves
Because it scares me so fucking much
Knowing that I might not see them the next day
Because of one bad decision
This is how my story goes.
It’s ridiculous how
I live in a fucked up world
Where parents don’t care
If you’re crying your eyes out
They just want to know
Why you’re making so much noise
I live in a fucked up world where
You are not yourself
You are just a number
On a scale
On a chart of statistics
Where grades are the only thing
That will ever define you
Where students will lose themselves
In seas of work
And they will drown
Trying to build a raft
For themselves to float on
This is how my story goes.
I’ve come to realize that
No one in this world
Will ever be okay
Okay is a concept that
No one actually understands
But we use it like
A fourth grader using a new vocabulary word
Just because they think
It will make them sound cool
And the most horrifying thing about that
About depression
Is that you never know
Who will have it
And how they will be the next day
And that’s just it
My best friend’s not okay
My boyfriend’s not okay
My sister’s not okay
And my parents aren’t either
No one is okay and that is not okay
I am not okay
And this is how my story goes.
The first time I met you
I said, “Hey there”
Because when I was just
Five years old
My mother taught me that
The only way to make friends
Was to be kind
And now I’m sixteen and I realize that
It’s not the same anymore
Because today we could be such great things
And tomorrow I’m at your funeral
Wondering what the fuck I could’ve done
To keep you there with me.

—"This Is How My Story Goes" (via unseenvisibility)

What is my story?
I am not so extraordinary
That I have climbed mountains of adversity
Or fought battles of injustice
And come out victorious,
My head held high as I triumphed.
In truth I am rather regular
And except for being what some people consider “a bit too much,”
I have never been one
To attract attention.
I made friends with book characters
But that is not so uncommon,
For plenty of people turn to fictional worlds
To cope with their own realities.
I am not the only broken down car on the side of the highway
And I am not the only sinking ship;
I sail on a sea of others
Who feel the same
And when there are thousands of the same broken wound up toy,
People stop bothering to fix them.
Who am I to profess
That my problems are any worse
Than the girl in the back of the class who can’t stand going home
Or the boy who looks at himself in the mirror
Every day in the bathroom and asks
Why am I still here?
To convince myself that I am somehow special
Because homework stresses me out
Or because I feel so much pressure to be perfect
Would be insulting my intelligence,
For if I know anything
It is that I am not the only sixteen year old
Who sometimes cries when things get hard.
Honestly I’m pretty plain
And I pale in comparison
To people with problems
Much bigger than mine.
Compared to some
I hold the world in my hands
And I feel ungrateful when my heart tells me
That is not enough.
I know I am notoriously normal and
I have priveleges some
Do not ever even dream of having.
I am surrounded by swarms of other people
With the reflection of my own overwhelmedness
In their eyes,
The same glazed glare that comes from
Lack of sleep and panic attacks,
And it is hard for me to feel
Like the emotions that course
Through my veins and eat up
Hours of sleep,
The emotions that people are tired of hearing about
Because they are nothing new,
It is hard for me to feel like they matter at all.
I am completely complimentary
And I serve only to add to situations,
Not create them.
I have accepted that no one will ever
Spare me a glance and think to themselves
Wow, she is something else.
Today, everyone is tragic
And scars are commonplace,
Despite if they are on your wrists
Or in your heart.
It doesn’t matter if you are hurting
Because you are swimming in an ocean of others
Sharing the pain,
And you are not something else
Because everyone else is
And there is no room for you
To fit into that category.
There are girls who are gorgeous
In the unique way you don’t see everyday
But I am not a show stopper
And if you passed me on the street
You would not look twice.
I am nothing new.

—Plain Jane, l.h.k. (via ive-been-john-watsoned)

1. When a boy who leaves goosebumps on every inch of your skin tries to play you his favorite song, don’t let him. He’ll get it stuck in your head and under your fingertips and when he leaves, you won’t be able to listen to it without feeling like you’re choking.

2. Don’t let him touch you all over no matter how much you want to feel him against you. Leave a few spots untouched so that when you’re sleeping alone again, at least your left wrist and an inch of your right hip won’t sting with the remaining burn of his mouth.

3. Don’t let him break your ribs.

4. Don’t watch the sunset with him. He’ll poison it. You won’t be able to look at the sky without swallowing a mouthful of him.

5. Don’t mistake wasps for butterflies. Sometimes when you feel your stomach flutter and your hands start to shake it’s pain, not love.

6. Just because he tells you he loves you doesn’t mean he’s going to stay.

7. It’s okay to delete his number after he kisses the pretty girl he met when he was drunk. It’s okay to leave when he hurts you. You don’t have to keep falling into him.

8. When he tells you that you’re beautiful, try to remember that you were beautiful before him too.

9. Just because he reads and smokes cigarettes and talks about the stars doesn’t mean he’s your soulmate.

10. After you kiss him, remember to wash your mouth out right away so he doesn’t burn into your tongue.

11. He’ll kiss you in the rain and take you to little coffee shops. He’ll brush your hair out of your eyes and kiss your nose. He’ll grab your waist and whisper in your ear but six months later you’ll find yourself drunk texting him that you miss him and he won’t respond.

12. Your heart is going to break a million times. It’s going to feel like the world is falling apart around you. Your lungs will stop working some nights. You find yourself grabbing at your bones trying to hold yourself together. You’re going to feel like you’re dying. It’s going to be okay. You’ll find someone else to kiss you goodnight.

—for future reference (via underneathgalaxies)

(Source: extrasad, via frecklesfromthemoon)

I’m in a relationship, and it’s complicated.
I have a case of wandering eyes.
But my hands- they’re doing all the seeing;
running along the paths that work their way around my body.

This is a love-hate relationship
and there’s no common ground when you’re living in no man’s land.
I’ve lost my voice
trying to command these soldiers through battle fields of dinner plates and bathroom reflections.

Yes, ninety percent of human interaction is non-verbal
but I’m seeking clarification and lately communication hasn’t been my forté
But I need to start talking.

I’m in a relationship, and it’s fucking complicated.
I’m looking for the right words to say, but I’m distracted-
stuttering over re-written nursery rhymes that sound more and more like the unraveling of dreams from my childhood.

I never imagined my past would come back as The Big Bad Wolf
Disguised in a cloak of my anxieties,
Claws out aiming for my throat- I close my eyes and pretend I’m swallowing self-love
I’ll claim ignorance, that my vision and hands aren’t double agents
Undermining my success, my well-being, my entire life

I’ve been working up the courage to break-up with my insecurities so long
I’ve become my own mistress.
Waiting for divorce papers; for this illness to pack the last of their anxieties;
They fucked me so hard, for a while I was afraid to make love with the lights on.

Sometimes, my hands still wander
They tremble in a desperate attempt to shed my skin.
And I worry to this day, that I haven’t seen myself truly naked.

—frecklesfromthemoon (via frecklesfromthemoon)

for the foster kids who never got to say no


A hummingbird’s heart rate yawns and reaches to 1,260 beats per minute. The fists you may have felt can’t beat that hard and words can’t spit that fast. Take it as consolation — learn that consolation comes in many forms, often where you least expect it.

You learn not to take your momma’s pill…

#love #cute #younglove #perfect #funnyfaces #funny #faces #happy #laugh #cutie #sexy #beauty #hashtagesforlikes #hashtag #girl #guages #stoners #weed #bud # bowl #nongs #tokes #hits #smoke #smoking #smokers #sexystoners #beautiful

#love #cute #younglove #perfect #funnyfaces #funny #faces #happy #laugh #cutie #sexy #beauty #hashtagesforlikes #hashtag #girl #guages #stoners #weed #bud # bowl #nongs #tokes #hits #smoke #smoking #smokers #sexystoners #beautiful

Lezbihonest: Written Works


The Equation for Color

by G.R. Thompson

The first morning I woke up

Already knowing you wouldn’t be here

My eyes opened in a cold bed

And, they snapped.

They didn’t crackle or pop.

As the air shattered

Across my face,

When I stepped outside,

My eyes stung…