There aren’t many times you find yourself at 2 am on the top of a mountain overlooking Palestine, talking about life with a boy who looks at you like you’re magic
Do you ever think about all of the really nice drunk girls you’ve met in bathrooms and wonder how they are doing? I miss you all
you weren’t special until I made you so.
I’m sitting on the floor in my
best friend’s bedroom.
I’m talking about how I can’t
seem to stop feeling like a liar
when a a boy on Tinder says he
wants to fuck me and then I’m
And then I’m crying and laughing
and apologizing because I’m crying,
and it won’t stop for anything,
and I swear I’ve never hurt with
such an emptiness before in my life.
I realize I am small and then
everything is too close, and then
I realize I’ve never been touched
on purpose, and then I realize
how empty twenty years old can
and how the fuck can someone go
twenty years without being touched?
Without being loved like that?
Here. For this,
I won’t write in the abstract.
This happened. This happens.
The nothingness starts getting
louder and then, when it finds
its name, there’s no ignoring it.
I am small and I don’t want to be.
I am good and kind
and funny. I can make you
laugh and you’ll never have to
Thank you. Yes, please.
I understand. Bye. It was nice
meeting you. It’s okay.
For the third time, my name is
Caitlyn. You don’t have to spell
it right. No one ever does.
Where is the sky? Where is the string?
Where is the hand that burns?
Where is the mouth that stays?
I am not being looked for.
That’s the long and short of it.
In a parallel universe, someone hates
In a parallel universe, I have been
reckless and brave and ridiculous
Don’t make me prove it. I’m tired
just thinking about it.
Someone hug me. Someone
punch me in the face.
Grab my neck and mean it.
Someone pull it out of me.
Someone stand me up straight
and make me work for it.
Rip my heart out through my back
then hold it between your teeth.
I’ll be so thankful.
I’ll be so fucking thankful.
Caitlyn Siehl, Small (via alonesomes)
This time last year I moved to California and didn’t know a single soul
Now California feels like home and yet I’m running even further away where I’ll know even fewer souls
but like a vulture
loves the carcass
they pick over.
-Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)