“Find someone who pays attention. Who runs their fingers over your every scar; and asks where each one came from. Find someone who knows how you like your coffee; what song makes you want to roll the windows down and slam on the gas pedal. Find someone who takes in your smallest details; who notices the things you thought no one ever would. And then…when you find them… Be their someone, too.”— a paragraph about falling in love, deep3snplottwists
(via wnq-writers)
(via deadlysick)
Holocene:
/ˈhäləˌsēn,ˈhōlə-/
adjective
of, relating to, or denoting the present epoch, which is the second epoch in the Quaternary period and followed the Pleistocene.Basically, the current geological era we as humans are residing in. Even more simply, the last 10,000 years humans have inhabited this earth. I saw someone post about the beauty of this song and discussing its meaning and was inspired to explain why I love this song so much. The best way to describe what this song is about is, “finding significance in insignificance.”
Humans are nothing in the time-span of Earth, let alone the Universe. We are mere star dust roaming the planet, ghosts inhabiting meatships, yet each and every one of us is here for a reason.
I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of this song and I am hoping to get “holocene” tattooed to me because as small as I may be in comparison to everything that has ever existed and is existing, I still have the power to be. To make choices. There is significance in insignificance.
Holocene — Bon Iver
… and at once I knew I was not magnificent
Strayed above the highway aisle
(Jagged vacance, thick with ice)
I could see for miles, miles, miles
holocene - bon iver. one of those songs meant to listened to on a stormy night with the sound of rain and thunder in the background. so soft and beautiful, and a good song to drift off to sleep to when you can’t keep your eyes open any longer. fav line: strayed above the highway aisle (jagged vacance, thick with ice) i could see for miles, miles, miles
Are You Constantly Worried Your Whole Life Could Fall Apart At Any Minute?
Well
It will
You’ll be half asleep
In gym shorts and a t-shirt with the armpits ripped out
Wrapped in a blanket
Lost in an autonomous routine
With one eye openYou could be sober
You could be the biggest drunk the world has ever seen
You could literally be a crow hanging on a sloping wire
It doesn’t matter
One day some serious shit will happenAre you gonna cry?
Are you gonna kick yourself for not having serious shit insurance?
Are you gonna beg for help?
Are you going to become a hermit and never leave your house again?
Are you gonna bottle it all up and passively take it out on the people who love you most?Are you gonna write weird poetry?
Are you gonna buy a Harley Davidson and then yell at your wife when she says she’s worried about you?
Are you going to stumble into the desert high on peyote and wait for a rattlesnake to tell you what to do?
Are you going to look for love to save you?
Would that make you whole?Dead leaves scatter across the ground
Sad men eat cheeseburgers and drink weird beers you’ve never heard of
Children play outside with remote control cars and laugh hysterically when they hit each other
A middle aged woman watches murder mysteries on cable for twelve hour straight
Crows scavenge through trash and go ‘caw caw’ and whatnot
The bathroom smells like bleach
The family room smells like smoke
Time drools alongWho do you want to be?
Where do you want to go?
Would it be better to just close your eyes and wait for the whole thing to be over?
Would it be better to endlessly talk about your problems to whoever will listen?Learn to play a piano
Write the saddest song ever written
Get a good nights sleep
And tell me specifically what you plan on doing tomorrow
(via stevenluce)
6:30am alarmed my body pressed into pulpy foam. I rubbed my eyelid and removed any deposits little rest brought that night. I rolled over and stretched out wide across the silk sheets. An uneasy feeling weighed over my chest as I scrunched my eyebrows and pressed my apex with the pads of my fingertips.
Mornings similar to this one often felt difficult. I imagined all of my emotional baggage packed up like luggage in my mind that I wished to ship away. Instead, I pushed it all back up in a tiny space in the back while it silently bothered me throughout new day. Whispers too loud to silence until replaced with louder ones.
When I found it difficult to fully rejuvenate, I felt the urge to look into my eyes and connect with the fire in there. Every morning and every night I’d comfort my own company somehow. I’d decided long ago that poetry was my favorite outlet; perhaps an addicting lane of reassurance.
Just a poem
Just a book
Just words not worth reading
A scroll past
That’s what I loved. The letters that were strung out from someone’s soul in their most vulnerable moment. Shall it be while resting on a sailboat, at a desk with eyes filled with tears, on a porch barefoot in the middle of Phoenix. Words kept my heart in awe as I read them to my reflection. I would observe the way my lips moved, the color of my iris, my raw shell, my style of choice that day.
I viewed an artist of words. A person capable of envisioning color, life, and taste. A seeker of success and a knowledgeable marketer. A gentle lover, embracing and expanding her long limbs across her admirers like glue that couldn’t be removed. A beautiful chaotic work in progress thirsty for expression. Suddenly it all made sense again.
It all made sense again
I needed words to survive.