beautiful blue eyes
Anonymous asks: Do you have an Instagram?
Yeah I don’t use it a lot but it’s @myclockradio
I’ve been ignored by prettier women than you, but none who carried the heavy pitchers of silence so far, without spilling a drop.
—Jeffrey McDaniel, “Letter to the Woman Who Stopped Writing Me Back” (via maza-dohta)
If we learn to open our hearts, anyone, including the people who drive us crazy, can be our teacher.
—Pema Chödrön (via littlecornerofzen)
I like the dark part of the night, after midnight and before four-thirty, when it’s hollow, when ceilings are harder and farther away. Then I can breathe, and can think while others are sleeping, in a way can stop time, can have it so – this has always been my dream – so that while everyone else is frozen, I can work busily about them, doing whatever it is that needs to be done, like the elves who make the shoes while children sleep.
I am not a graceful person. I am not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don’t see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.