About

Miri, 19, studies philosophy at the University of Cambridge and has fake front teeth.

Search for content

nevver:

Lisa Congdon

"Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence."

~ The Little Prince (via theoldludwigvan)

(Source: psych-facts)


(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

Old Nightmares

plusquamperfectum:

Her hips have grown hands. They reach out to me through the thin fabric of her shirt. As we embrace they collide with my own; bone on bone. She is slimmer than before, her body screams out to me. Her Cheshire-cat grin turns my heart upside down and I smile back with my heart on my lips. She leaps up the stairs on fast-forward. As she reaches the top step the tape of my memory begins to jump and flicker.

The scene flips. She’s falling, flying down the stairs she danced up a moment before, hair whirling. That smell of soap and bananas making my mouth water                 making me retch. I spit my heart out onto the floor.

I lift her shirt to find a beat but there is nothing. A hole, the shape of a key. Her hips are blades, peel back the skin from my frantic fingertips. Her feet are shapeless; blistered and contorted beyond recognition. Beneath her knotted hair, her face is losing its colour. It is shrinking, the chin becoming pointed. When her mouth opens to scream, it is with the lips and teeth of someone else’s memory.


(via plusquamperfectum)

"Leaving is not enough. You must stay gone. Train your heart like a dog. Change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size. A bathtub full of tea. A heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. You had to have him. And you did. And now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. Make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. Place it on whatever altar you fashion… Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. And you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street."

~ Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell by Marty McConnell
(via obstinate-and-headstrong)

(Source: strange-bloom)


(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

(Source: theholyscroll)


(via deenidonelon)
nevver:

Butterscotch Waterfall, Amy Poehler

Amy Poehler is the love of my life.

nevver:

Butterscotch Waterfall, Amy Poehler

Amy Poehler is the love of my life.


(via nevver)
likeafieldmouse:

Egon Schiele - Sun Tree (1910)

likeafieldmouse:

Egon Schiele - Sun Tree (1910)


(via blamesjake)

plusquamperfectum:

My friend Alex has been one of the best friends to me in the last couple of months. He has confidence issues about pretty much everything, especially his writing, to the point where he hardly writes at all anymore. He wrote something for me (and about me) recently and when he showed me it made me cry so hard. I wanted to share it with you guys

"She had a fairytale but he threw it away
You know she shouldn’t take it so personally
She had a perfect story that she loved to tell
And you wish it could be true but she’s going through hell
It’s not like a burn though, it’s more like a chill
Blowing slow and heavy on down Calvary Hill
She can write and get with guys and it’s numbing the pain
But every day, her memory makes him more like John Cusack in the rain

Seems like every photograph held a piece of her life
She defined herself and tried her health but in a matter of months
She’s the same damn girl, same damn place, running from a boy she’s in the same damn state
Not sure if there’s a line between nostalgia and hate
She was on time and he turned up late
She never had a tea shook up so bad
A night of holding hands, among the best that she had
So she’ll go back to the woods and she’ll sit there and wait”

Re-reading.

Alex is my favourite. And he should really write more


(via plusquamperfectum)

The Itch

The moon peers through your window. Onto us on the bed, the line warping between us. Touching toes.

The moon knows of my treachery. It must have told the sky for when I get outside the blackness spits staccato bursts into my face. The night is electric, the music loud. The walk home is too short to think. Not even time to hope that no one sees me, marking the path between us with mud.

I am guilty right down to my boot-soles.

Crystal Castles - Empathy

Down, down, cities fall down on me.