I see beauty in all things. Things can be tragically beautiful, white trash beautiful, morbidly, oddly beautiful. . |
I believe flowers shouldn't be picked, bugs shouldn't be killed unless they pose a direct threat, and that as humans we should respect all things small and not be egocentric because of our larger size.
Music is my soul, it is truly everything to me.
I am a water bearer scorpion (aquarius sun/Scorpio moon).
The Shins are my favorite, tied with the Beatles. I love RHCP, Florence and the Machine, Pink Floyd, Death Cab, Kings of Leon, Radiohead, Broken Bells, Jack White, Led Zeppelin, Beck, etc.
I'm a huge Lostie, and after three years of finishing Lost, I still think about it every day.
I dig Star Trek, Wilfred, and the Walking Dead as well.
I'm a day tripper and mushrooms are my favorite.
Acid and ganga are tied for second.
I have anxiety and depression.
Some days all I want to do is sleep to relieve me from my thoughts.
I just want someone to sit in a bathtub with me and read poetry.
I am mommy to the beautiful
Jonah Lennon <3.
I celebrate John Lennon and James Mercer's birthdays every year.
I post lots of writing, quotes, lit.
I am a writer. It's proven to be a good source of therapy for me.
My life continues to be a strange story.
I want rock songs played at my funereal.
I like to go play Bingo.
I am simple yet overly complex.
I promise to take you beyond the mundane.
" l like fireworks, candlelight, and fake bad news"
The first and only time I did cocaine was in a pair of pearls and two people did lines off my belly; twas white trash beautiful.
I am a serial monogamist..
I wish I could have my childhood back and change a few things.
When I search for true love, a few of my criteria include: I have to be able to speak to him in a metaphor, he must have much intellect and the curiosity of life and existence and all the mysteries of this crazy, beautiful weird thing of being a human in a soul, in a body, seeing through eyes, breathing in and out... he has to ponder that and quite often as I do. He must be slightly impulsive and always be willing to lay in a field of flowers on the side of the road with with me at random.
My guilty pleasures are pain, eating frosting by the spoonfuls, sweet tea, reality tv (dance moms, teen mom, the bachelorette), sleeping to dream, pastels, people watching, maybe even makeup sex, i'm unsure..
I am 23 years old.
The name's Anna.
I support being barefoot.
I love tumblr and questions so ask me anything if you feel. <3
*indie *soft grunge
dancing in her lace underwear
flowers in her hair
singing into her hairbrush
she doesn’t need him anymore
smoking a cigarette by herself
observing the paper melt
noticing the little things
and all the beauty each brings
she doesn’t need him
the solitude and the new beginning
one day her life just stopped spinning
no more comfort in the sorrow
suddendly, she only sees her bright tomorrows
she doesn’t need him
PostedDate1/11/2013 4:08:00 PM
I’ve always been this girl, for as long as I remember, that falls in love with freckles and scars. I see beauty in madness; the madness and beauty, both an addiction. I hold on to things I convince myself I can’t let go of. An empty water carton, a dead flower, to name a few. I use to consume my time on mere moments, secure it with a tangible souviner. Now, I am ridden by those moments and in lingo within them.
Cigarettes help me breathe. May sound like an oxymoronic excuse, but with smoke in my lungs, I breathe easier. We’ll see how that works out in the long run, won’t we?
I try not to be dead inside. And there are instances that I’m not. But something is wrong. Why do I inflict pain upon myself and delay an inevitable ending? A real one. I am falsified.
I sleep too much. I like to dream. It’s underrated, dreaming.
They say all they want to do is “hold my hand”, The Beatles that is.
My First Salvia Trip ♥
DateCreated2/23/2009 9:16:00 PM
Iâ€™ve never done any kind of â€œdrugâ€ but weed before. Tonight I smoked salvia for the first time. It is a legal hallucinogen.This is a great site to learn moreaÂ about salvia: Â http://www.salviasociety.org/
We turned on some Beatles and I sat Indian style on the floor of the bus; itâ€™s a 79 VW bus. Â He told me to count to thirty. I did and I didnâ€™t feel anything. He smoked it right after I did.Â I took another hit. And closed my eyes. Then suddenly I saw all these colors moving like a train. Everything was like a multi color cell moving in direction to the music. Something, I donâ€™t know if it was the song or the color itself, told me it was leaving. The pink began to walk away. And sat between him and I. I told him it was leaving and he said he knew it was leaving and said he would grab it. I told him to let the color go as it wanted.Â TheÂ Beatles continued to play in the background. I smoked it again, and it was more intense this time.Â I was in the song and all the colors were merging and moving towards the music and then as the music changed beat, it moved the other way, as did I. I knew from the very beginning that theywere taking me. I donâ€™t know who it was, but it almost felt like Big Brother but I was accepting it and leaving. It was not bad, I just wanted to see where I was going. I tried to get Anthony to come, but he was in his own. I was completely concerned with his being.
SubjectGoodbye, my almost lover.DateCreated2/10/2008 8:07:00 PMPostedDate2/10/2008 8:04:00 PMBody
PostedDate10/29/2012 11:49:00 AM
I’m suppose to be in love. It’s confusing. The dreaded art of slipping fingertips and holding on too tightly. to the past. and pending.
listening to candles by daughter. “wide eyed like we’re in a crime scene”.
what to do. closure.
Subject Oh, oh.
I want a guy that appreciates that I am tiny and that I tote around a child that is a third of my body weight. And I want the guy to notice I handle the pipe delicately and hold a cigarette differently. I think about my ex boyfriend pretty often; really, he is more of an ex husband. I miss the memories sometimes; I don’t know if I quite miss him. There were times he was really good to me, when he’d suprise me with a new copy of “The Bends” or place a flower by my sleeping head to wake up to. But I feel like he didn’t notice or appreciate the little things about me that are ultimately big and make up who I am. And that’s important. I was in love and I don’t know what he was in; routine?, habit?, boredom?… I may never really know. And perhaps it does not matter. Unanswered questions; the things they will do to you. I know what I want, I think. I think therefore I am. Yeah, yeah. What do I really know. I’m a girl stuck somewhere between the past and present. A melancholy version of someone else. This is the one life I know that I for sure have. He is but one boy. And time and life and history and love and hate has changed what was into what is. And what is- is nothing but memories, clouded with indifference and a mind that works in ways that can’t be understood. I am lost in lyrics and stoned by moments. Back straight, head low.
Let it go. You have no choice.
Posted Date 12/2/2012 4:24:00 PM
Their is a weirdness in happiness when
longing for a sadness.
Or a full moon
. In the midsts of clouded cigarette smoke.
How it is to inhale and exhale the same air with someone.
Or someone else.
The act of eating together.
We stole each other greeting cards.
Pretty Face by Soley is interesting.
Blue Pupils <3
DateCreated1/14/2010 8:32:00 PM
PostedDate1/14/2010 8:02:00 PM
I’m in the middle of reevaluating life. The subjectivity of love. I try to make sense of the senseless. There are few things that I know for certain. I will not remember everything. Forgetting has its perks. This may have an Eternal Sunshine ending. I understand perfectly why someone would want to erase someone else from their memory. Why remember the freckles you can merely long for. What’s second love anyway? More pain than the first. You come into the first wreck less and wild eyed. The second you come in wearing a bulletproof vest. But not even a bulletproof vest can protect you from love. Companionship is odd. And I’m more than aware that love is all you need. But it’s almost too frightening to get lost along the way in a puddle of blue pupils. Drowning in the existence of another human being, it’s dangerous. I see no beauty in vulnerability. I am blinded by the preciousness of Beatles songs and gestures of adoration. Naïve just sounds prettier than ignorant.