(Source: lizettejoan)
(Source: zirkus-der-nacht)
It’s been 11 years to the day since my mother passed away.
That familiar ache of loss, pain, and heart-wrenching longing to just hug her one more time always comes back. It never fails. Leukemia tore her away from me when I was far too young — I was only 11 years old. Now at 22, it’s terrifying to think that as of today, I’ve spent exactly half of my life without her.
She’s gone. I’ll never get to see her or hear her beautiful voice. I’ll never get another whiff of her familiar perfume. I’ll never hear her laugh again, never be able to hear her pick away at her 12 string guitar. I’ll never again taste one of her home cooked meals or dance with her.
At the same time, she won’t get to see me graduate from her collegiate alma mater this year. She’ll never meet any of my future lovers, or any of her possible grandchildren, nor was she there when my heart was broken. She won’t ever meet my best friends (some of the most important people in my life) nor will she ever see the person I’ve become or will eventually grow into. She’s just gone.
I don’t understand it. I never will. I mean, I know death is a part of life and all that bullshit, but it’s not fair. It’s not fair that I had to grow up without my mother, one of the most beautiful and dedicated individuals that I’ve ever met. The day she was ripped away from me and my family was a day that changed my life and my ways of thinking forever. I’m not afraid of death. I’m not afraid of an afterlife, good or bad. Thoughts of it just simply don’t bother me because inevitably, whatever we do now won’t matter. In the end, everyone dies. All you can do now is enjoy the moments you have with the people who mean the most to you, however fleeting those people or the times you spend with them may be.
This depression that tears through me every year is just a reminder that I am human. No matter what fuckery life throws at me, it’s part of life and I have to deal with it while I’m still here and I have the opportunity to, simply, live.
I Am A Rock - Simon and Garfunkel
This has always been pretty high up on my list of all time favorites.
Don’t talk of love.
Well, I’ve heard the word before
It’s sleeping in my memory,
I won’t disturb the slumber
Of feelings that have died.
If I never loved, I never would’ve cried.
I am a rock. I am an island.I have my books and my poetry to protect me
I’m shielded in my armor.
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb,
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock. I am an island.
(Source: scottzzie)
Miss you two like cray-cray.
-Yannay & Esjay
Five people cover Gotye’s “Somebody that I Used to Know” using only one guitar
This cover just fuels my love for the song.
Ugh so good.
(Source: reddit.com)
Now, I’m not one for labels, nor am I big on purses/accessories, but for some reason this “Maddox small workbag” by Fossil is calling my name. Actually, the whole collection of this style is calling my name (anything in green or black, specifically), but this bag…I want it so hard.
Not a flattering picture, but it gets the point across.
I just burned all of the things (letters, pictures, silly little mementos, and a jacket).
I guess you could say that I’m duh-dun-done…with you and all the bullshit you put me through over the last 4 years.
Closure is nice. So is fire and destructive therapy.
GPOY- Just finished knitting my Slytherin scarf edition.
Now I can be warm, stylish, and rep my house properly.
My love for the song “Carol of the Bells” shows no bounds.
No matter what version, as long as it’s decent voices/music, I will adore it.
A cappella, instrumental, accompanied, heavy, chill…does not matter.
Seriously. I have a problem.
I mean, besides the fact that I’m picky with my holiday music in general…it’s just so perfect to me.
