Pleasantly Detached

This is my public writing blog. My only hope for it is that people might relate to what I have to say.

It’s Late and I Feel Odd

I feel weird again, like I don’t quite fit into my skin. I feel flushed, and queasy, and I could just be sick, or it could be hyper-acidity from the coffee, except I know it’s not. I’ve felt this way before. I feel weird, and uncomfortable, and miserable, except in some masochistic way, I love it. This unsettling aura makes me feel like there’s more going on that what I can see. There’s more to what’s happening to me right now. My life is too bland, banal. I can’t deal with it. And every now and then, I get this way. It’s like my body is blowing off steam from the pressure of being normal, when all I want for the world is for it to let me be. Let me be weird. What’s so bad about wanting everyone to feel good about themselves? Why is it so weird to want to compliment everyone? It’s true isn’t it? You are a great person. You are a lovely individual. And people need to know these things about themselves. There are two things people need to know to lead happy lives. First is that they are capable of loving. That’s not so hard to realize, usually. Second is that other people are capable of loving them. This isn’t as easy to believe. 

I feel knots in my stomach, and it’s just stopped raining. I feel great. I feel like I want to cry, but not because I’m sad. I feel like if I cry, my tears will be scalding hot, and when that’s done, I’ll feel cool and refreshed on the inside, like my soul’s just taken a nice shower, or gone for a swim on a hot day. I’m sitting in front of the computer in my pajamas, but my mind is travelling the world. I feel like each and every neuron in my brain is an individual person, and some of them are sad. Sometimes, I think about how sad some people are, and it makes me want to cry. Sometimes, I think about how some people are working so hard so there won’t be as many sad people. This still makes me want to cry. And a lot of people will make fun of me for this. I don’t really care anymore. Like I said, sometimes crying is the equivalent of a luxurious shower for the soul. And this “not caring if people think I’m weird” thing is relatively new…for me, at least. And it’s created this strange paradox in me. I never knew it could be possible for me to see myself as a terrible excuse for a human being, but also think I am a lovely individual too. Maybe I’m starting to realize that other people are capable of loving me. I don’t know a lot of things definitively. The best I can do is make an intelligent guess.

9 WAYS TO CREATING A PERFECTLY HORRIBLE BOOK

(Source: zeppelin-cruiser, via bakarasunohigh)

lovequotesrus:

EVERYTHING LOVE

Re: The Costume Party

Something I wrote a while back

lovequotesrus:

EVERYTHING LOVE

thevintagethimble:

1920’s Hairstyles
A collection of 1920’s photographs, depicting some of the hairstyles of the time, like the kiss curl, the orchid bob, the charleston cut, coconut bob, earphones hairstyle, cottage loaf (bun) and popular styles you’ll probably never see in a period drama like extreme windblown style, the frizzy hairstyle and the Poodle cut.

Victorian Hairstyles Here [x] | Edwardian Hairstyles Here [x]

(via bellecs)

“I’m alright
I’m alright
I’m alright
But words are little comfort when you’re home alone at night”

—   "Warm Words for a Cold Evening in April", peppermintsighs
Ben Whishaw - La belle dame sans merci

gondolingirl:

La Belle Dame Sans Merci by John Keats read by Ben Whishaw.

(via ky-leidoscope)

Unfortunate Conflict of Interests

If you won’t let me
I will use you
And abuse you
Until your bank account’s dry
And you would never know
Because everyday
I’d say:
“I love you, It’s okay”
And when I’m done
I’ll run
Never looking back
Never keeping track
Of the cash I owe
Or the guilt you’d sow
In me
I’m guilt-free
You took my liberty
By trapping me
In this bourgeois lifestyle I wanted no part of
That I can’t let go of
Your “financial support” is a leash
And I’m bound
And all I can do to be free
Is to take your leash with me
Trustafarian, La vie