It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.
My Celebrity look-a-like.
"you make my heart beat in iambic pentameter."
no you don’t understand shakespeare literally writes to the beat of your heart
- that’s why shakespearean actors will sometimes pound their chests in time to the words during readings
- that’s why you use fluctuations in the rhythm to track your character’s emotional state - any irregularities in the scansion are like the character’s heart stuttering or jumping or skipping a beat
- that’s why when characters share the rhythm - switching off in the middle of a foot - those characters inevitably have an extraordinarily intimate connection
shakespeare fucking writes viscerally, he is literally in your body, and that, my friend, that is why the best shakespearean actors don’t posture and emote
you have to be fucking alive and passionate and electric - it can’t be intellectual, in the end, it has to be about connection and the sweating, cheering, jeering, bleeding masses you’re performing to, because make no mistake, shakespeare may go to lofty heights, but he only works if you’re just as grounded in the earth. he has to be in your body. he has to be in your body.
holy motherfucking shit i love shakespeare so much, get him in your bones, breathe him in, stomp and rage and pine, dadum dadum dadum dadum dadum, it is literally to the beat of your heart
"Daenerys" - Illustration by samspratt
Finally finished. Had a little too much fun painting all that loose, whispy, wooshy, hair. Now right back to the art cave to continue research on a poster I’m particularly excited about.
“Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how, in certain settings, things that are horrible, unhealthy and destructive seem normal. No one thinks anything of it until they are past it, and most people are cured from it. High school is a horrible environment for the development of the human mind, but someone thought it was a good idea and no one noticed. At my high school, one kid died every year. It was always either a drug-related car crash or a suicide—it just alternated every year. Now that I’m in college, people day drink and become casual alcoholics, and no one thinks anything of it. When everyone leaves, they will notice it.”
(I got like 3 hours of sleep the night before, so my thoughts sound super unorganized, but ayyy look it’s me)
SEVEN YOUNG LADIES STAND BEFORE ME … BUT I ONLY HAVE SIX PHOTOS IN MY HANDS.
AND THESE PHOTOS … REPRESENT THE GIRLS … WHO ARE STILL IN THE RUNNING TOWARD BECOMING … AMERICA’S NEXT TOP MODEL.
I’M KIDDING, OBVIOUSLY. NONE OF YOU ARE TALL ENOUGH FOR RUNWAY WORK, PLUS I DON’T HAVE HANDS. NOW GET OUT OF HERE AND GO PLAY IN THE YARD. I NEED TO TAKE A LITTLE NAP.
Something that I and other people deal with. All I can do is ask for forgiveness and try harder to not let my problems make relationships unbearable to be with.
I don’t think anyone understands how incredibly fucking relevant this is.
If you feel this way around me, I will always forgive you.FROEVER!
I love kissing. I love the way they feel, I love the sighs and moans that follow. I love the small pauses and teases for more. I love the small taste of tongue that brush together occasionally. I love the wandering hands. I like biting. I like pulling. I like running my tongue lightly across their bottom lip. I like the little laughs when its almost too good and you can’t help yourself. Idk. Making out as a whole is just pretty great.