unwell

ultravioletness:

grief sorrow depression

my mind has poisoned my body

(Source: ultraviolet-ness)

We were solid, we were in love. / You were funny and I loved to laugh. / We sang songs, we held hands. / I held back as we charged ahead. / Where was I, where had I gone? / We had the time of our lives, but I’m afraid I missed it all. / We had everything we ever wanted, while my hands were tied behind my back. / We were young, we were beautiful. / The sun was always at our backs. / Our smiles broke hearts and our words became songs. / And I was missing all along.

Building a life out of q-tips and ink, she paints crude portraits of lost loves and loyal friends.  Constructing a life from pictures of strangers, she’s looking for something bigger than herself in a world that revolves around her.

And it seemed suddenly, overtly ridiculous.  She’d done it countless times before, but it had, in the last hour, become a humiliation, something that must be done away from prying neighbors and best friends alike - it seemed to her now that all of us do it, but only she had been vulgar enough, outrageous enough to do it without embarrassment and to think it a novelty. 

It could have been a tea party - there were little cakes and sandwiches and lemon slices and delicate tongs, but something wasn’t all right.  It was too industrial and it wasn’t all tidy.  Things that should’ve been neither seen nor heard were instead hinted at in ungraceful moments when the façade flickered and we all got a glimpse of the empty and echoey, too-bright hall in which we all sit.