swim out from the lighthouse

writing problem: your main OC’s cousin is super hot and your thirsty ass can’t write him without writing the thirst too - and we don’t want incest in our books, no we don’t.

so i didn’t pass the bar and now i hate everything and everyone

and like maybe 12 years of deep-rooted issues are attacking me all at once for some reason and 

hey like i’m tired and my mind keeps creating these images of me happy surrounded by a laughing, loving family who joke and tease and tell me they love me unconditionally, and everything is lit with a golden glow and like for some reason that makes me want to cry all day.

like maybe i spent all these years plugging up the holes in my sinking ship hoping that if i go fast enough i won’t fill up with too much water and now the engine’s turned off and i’m sinking at last.

but maybe that’s a bad analogy because i’ve always known how to swim and the ocean doesn’t terrify me

but loneliness does. and i am so lonely here in this foreign country with my self-made family scattered around the world and sometimes i wonder if this is why my father turned himself into something larger than life, somebody with friends turned into family, where i just called people my uncles and aunts and cousins even though they were never related by blood. 

but i just…

i just want to have somewhere that’s home, and as far as i can reach it takes the shape of people scattered in two different countries and two different time zones and i am so. so. fucking. tired.

i am just so fucking tired.

man like thai is such a weird language

like we use the same word for ‘you’ and ‘she’

and we have a word which means ‘he’ and ‘she’ and ‘them’ and like, ‘mountain’ for some reason, but if you say it colloquially it is also ‘me’ in the very specific context of speaking with your so where you refer to your partner as ‘yourself’ and you call yourself ‘them’. and of course this will make absolutely no sense unless you actually speak thai.

i miss being in love.

i can’t remember a time when i wasn’t drowning in my feelings for someone. it’s so quiet now.

angelealowes:

“I am a woman and I am composed of wings. I am the open wound, never not bleeding. My body is field and meadow and valley, all the dips and shifts of womanhood. All the ways I’ve managed to land on my feet. Palms open. Metaphorical and all these fault lines. Abstract art. The best line in the poem, but never the full piece. I am a woman and I am dissected into useful bits and pieces. Scraped and scarred, and still on my feet. In the midst of the revolution. Blood between my legs. Blood in my mouth from a bitten tongue. Blood as my war paint. I am a woman and I am living proof of fairy tales. Of witchcraft. I am magic and light and clawing my way out of this tower. I am conjuring fire between my hands. I am slaying my own dragon. I am both a princess and a sword. You will name kingdoms after me, and I will name ruins after you. I am a woman and I am still on my feet. This is my greatest act of rebellion.”

— Rock, Paper, Girl, Angelea Lowes (via wildfairy)

(via angelealowes)