"I’m not scared! I want to be scared, I want to be hurt. I want to remember."

Effy Stonem

Camille + Amma / One Way or Another [Sharp Objects]

Camille + Amma / Colors

 

“Every time people said I was pretty, I thought of everything ugly swarming beneath my clothes."

Gillian Flynn, Sharp Objects 

Amma + Camille / Feel Something

“Sometimes if you let people do things to you, you’re really doing it to them,” Amma said, pulling another Blow Pop from her pocket. Cherry. “Know what I mean? If someone wants to do fucked-up things to you, and you let them, you’re making them more fucked up. Then you have the control. As long as you don’t go crazy.”

 Gillian Flynn, Sharp Objects

amma crellin | don't tell mama

Gillian Flynn: "Sharp Objects"

amma; queen of the underworld

Gillian Flynn: "Sharp Objects"

a girl like a feather

all that glitters
and all that hurts
is sacred, so it seems....
 
grey sparkles were dancing in your eyes as you smiled
in this moment i loved you beyond measure
when death sparkled in your eyes
in the hours of twilight and dusk
you stepped out into gardens of sadness and joy
hidden in shadows i watched you leave
you were always so happy to loose yourself
you were always so happy to vanish
the body slays the soul you once said,
it should be the other way round

rain poured down
when i saw you for the last time
you walked on the other side of the street 
when i called out for you
you turned and smiled
i missed you without measure and i miss you still
you were always so happy to loose yourself,
you were always so happy to vanish...

frozen

butterflies

I’m sad today...something is happening here, something weird, she whispered into the fading twilight of an autumn’s sky. She wandered through an alley, amidst hight trees, accompanied only by dancing leaves and fluttering crows. Thoughtful, as ever. As ever. 


The fluttering thoughts in her head resembled bright butterflies 
With razorblade wings, 
Cutting deep wounds into the tissue of her brain, 
Never leaving her alone, not for one single moment
Even in her sleep she heard the steady beating of their blooddripping wings

A restless thoughts syndrome you might say
A restless bad thoughts syndrome, to be correct

[She smiled but her smile did not reach her eyes, never did]

When she had opened her wrists a long time ago she had cried long and hard like a child
She remembered sitting behind rain-streaked windows, a small shape behind huge glass panes
Disfigured insulting like a spider maybe
Or an insect, a very rare one and 
Oh so ugly
In the eyes of the blinded
And what strange moves her fingers made
Creepy crawly feathery spiderlegs
On the warm wooden surface of the table
Tapping softly
Drawing invisible ornaments and shapes
Of crippled flowers and trees

A violent sunset’s orange and gold
Crashed down from heavily clouded skies,
Bringing sweet apricot dreams of a child she never was
Then darkness fell like the closing of a coffin’s lid
With the distant sound of frantically beating wings

And quietly
And softly
Came out hidden tears
Big tears
Like an animal’s tears being slaughtered
The end of words and reason
So this is what dying is all about

schlaflos

bin im internet versunken, zu viel kaffee getrunken, ich kann nicht schlafen.
in der suizidnewsgroup postet jemand namens springrain, ich habe den namen
gerade noch im gedächtnis und notiere ihn mir, bevor er mir entgleitet.
springrain ein leichter regen fällt auf gräber die steine glänzen der himmel glasklar
und die luft ist frisch ein luftiger frühlingsregen überdeckt soviel schmerz
er ist wie eine sanfte lüge, die alles erträglich macht
ich erinnere mich an purplebunny, als sie starb
dachte so lange nicht an sie so lange...

und wieder der frühlingsregen, leicht und voller versprechungen,
voller träume, sanft wie eine mitleidige lüge
die flucht in die krankheit öffnet die türen zur wahrheit
doch am ende träumen sie sich alle weg
die verwunschene suizidwelt, die toten kinder,
leichter regen fällt auf gräber
ich kann nicht schlafen weil der tod neben mir steht
er hält mich wach, der kaffee tut sein übriges dazu

ich liebe lügen und versprechungen
ich liebe den frühlingsregen und suizid-newsgroups
verdammt mich, ich tue es ebenfalls
jenseits jeder moral
eine charakterschwäche?
lass jede moral beiseite und was wird aus dir?
etwas völlig fremdes.
die wahrheit?

ah, der tod wendet sich gerade ab, er geht weiter
aber er wird wiederkommen,mich mit gefühlen überschwemmen,
mich zu dem reduzieren, was ich bin,
unmoralisch, schlaflos, liebend, sonst nichts.
liebt mich, wie ich bin, murmelt der mensch in mir,
nehmt mich wie ich bin.
das andere, das wahre, murmelt nichts mehr.
es sagt nichts mehr sieht nur hinaus in den regen

die liebe ist unmenschlich wie der tod.
und ich versuche jetzt zu schlafen.

wie der asphalt den ein grashalm sprengt

die frau, die schwarzen rauch ausatmet
steht mitten im weg auf dem gehsteig vor dir
scheint so als würde sie ihre seele ausatmen
steht einfach nur da mit den augen richtung himmel
die augen füllen sich grad mit regenwasser
wie schalen, ihren ausdruck kannst du dir denken
feine risse denkst du
erst feine risse dann grobe risse
wie der asphalt den ein grashalm sprengt

we can still run away

there are rooftops to climb. crypts to hide in. old trees to embrace. we still have the energy to run away. be wild as we used to be. wild things go crazy when they have to live in a cage.
i always used to say that one day i’ll run away.
will i?
WILL I????
my heart is breaking right now



lila on tumblr, late night. sleepless.

"if she fell, if she broke, you’d find a million fragments in the morning. bright crystal and clear wine on the parquet flooring, that’s all you’d see at dawn."

 ray bradbury

Shall I tell you a story? A new and terrible one? A ghost story? Are you ready? Shall I begin? Once upon a time there were four girls. One was pretty. One was clever. One charming, and one...one was mysterious. But they were all damaged, you see. Something not right about the lot of them. Bad blood. Big dreams. Oh, I left that part out. Sorry, that should have come before. They were all dreamers, these girls. One by one, night after night, the girls came together. And they sinned.

Do you know what that sin was? No one? Pippa? Ann? Their sin was that they believed. Believed they could be different. Special. They believed they could change what they were--damaged, unloved. Cast-off things. They would be alive, adored, needed. Necessary. But it wasn't true. This is a ghost story remember? A tragedy. They were misled. Betrayed by their own stupid hopes. Things couldn't be different for them, because they weren't special after all. So life took them, led them, and they went along, you see?

They faded before their own eyes, till they were nothing more than living ghosts, haunting each other with what could be. With what can't be. There, now. Isn't that the scariest story you've ever heard?

Libba Bray, A Great and Terrible Beauty    

"You tried to change, didn’t you?
 Closed your mouth more,
 tried to be softer, prettier,
 less volatile, less awake
 You can’t make homes out of human beings.
 Someone should have already told you that."

Warshan Shire, For Women Who Are Difficult To Love

       

    "And then I felt sad because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t ever be fixed, and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see the people in your life break one by one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it’s already happened."

-  Douglas Coupland

Ghost World - Final Scenes

heimweh

so plötzlich, ohne vorwarnung, begann alles, sich in nichts aufzulösen. es gab nicht einmal einen heroischen fight, nichts von dem, was ich erwartet hatte. auf einmal begann unser lautes lachen sich aufzulösen, unsere  jugendlichkeit, unsere trunkenheit in der nacht. auf einmal waren wir nicht mehr. wir waren nicht einmal mehr freunde. früher waren wir mehr als das. waffenkameraden, saufkumpane, vampire, die dämlichen arschlöcher mit den fetten schwarzen sunglasses at night, fellow spooks, die einander so so sehr liebten und bewunderten. wir wären füreinander tausende tode gestorben. und wir hätten unser letztes bier miteinander geteilt. fellow spooks, spooky kids, nachtkreaturen, niemals so werden wie die, sich niemals korrumpieren lassen, immer zeit füreinander haben., immer treu sein, immer ehrlich sein, immer reden, wenn was weh tut. immer da sein füreinander. blutunterschriften unter unsere glitzernden briefe, nächtliche anrufe, flüstern miteinander, so viele geheimnisse, so unendlich viele, und sie sind noch immer da, nur für uns nicht mehr, denn wir sind nicht mehr.