goldhornsandblackwool:

:( sucks to be here fam :(

of-spaceandstars:

“There are whole years I have dropped to the bottom of an uneasy ocean.”

— Brenna Twohy, from Swallowtail (via weltenwellen)

Buy this book from this brilliant mind.

I am humbled and so, so grateful that this little-poem-that-could just reached TWO MILLION views. Thank you thank you thank you, to all of you who share this poem and keep it alive, and so many of you who have reached out to share your stories with me. 
Thanks to @button-poetry and @portlandpoetryslam for all the support and for doing this work with care and passion and love. 

(Source: youtube.com)

scripttraumasurvivors:

“There are few things more heavy to carry than knowing what you are capable of.

So the next time some gratitude enforcer reminds you that the universe never gives you more than you can handle-

You let them know Doc Luben was sent back from the gates of death to tell them to go fuck themselves.

Do not tell me that I am still here today because a beautiful spirit led me by the loving hand toward healing while letting my friends die alone on their bedroom floors.

Too many people still breathing today will never ask for help because you keep telling them that they’re already supposed to be okay.”

It’s been a hot minute since I did one of these but let’s chat about what you can learn from this poem.

Doc Luben is, as you can see here, a suicide survivor. It’s something he’s spoken on several times, some of you might know of his poem ‘14 lines from love letters or suicide notes.’

Characters who have lived when they did not want to often come in two flavors. 

1) The ones who say they are so lucky to be alive and tell everyone how green the grass is now.

2) The sad girl who will try again.

Just like every other form of trauma, it is never that simple. People who survived have a variety of stances but I have never… felt one so personally as Luben’s. Who growls and hates when people tell him he was chosen to stay alive. Who snaps out that he is not special for having stayed alive. That his friends, his loved ones- they were not somehow weaker than he was for not making it.

Who still says he is lucky to be alive. Despite the faulty wiring in his brain- despite the broken code. 

Who recognizes that he might still try again. Who makes no lies about where he is at.

He is someone who wants to get better but has not allowed that to paint him into a specific personality of softness and gratitude. Who recognizes the complexity of it all.

If you’re looking to write someone who survived an attempt on their own life, he is someone to look up and listen to.

💟💟💟💟💟

my-flourish-and-blotts:

Travel hopefully.

givemearmstopraywith:

margaret atwood for the times, september 2019 (x)

Holy holy yes.

which I walked by on the first day of april,

seeing it had bloomed, all at once, the sudden

flashbulb white laced with tender soft pink

and my two thoughts

one, it is so pretty.

two, god damn it, why not me?

why does this thing which is also alive

get to leap newborn and vibrant

from the sky,

while I fingernail through the mud

re-learning over and over

how to stand

one fat ugly joint at a time.

why it and its effortless drinking of sun,

while I strain to remember

a ribbon of nourishment

and swallow my own bitter teeth.

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It has been a while since I posted this. Things are a little better today, but everything I talk about here is still relevant. I would love to hear how you are doing, too.

sharingtoast:

You want some real real talk? As a genderqueer person with a beard, I often make the decision not to wear traditionally “women’s” clothes or make-up because I know it makes other people uncomfortable. Not because I am scared of what they will say or do to me. I regularly misgender myself just because it feels more polite.