sometimes i write / a mish-mash

i've thought about what to write in this big white box for way too long. it's taken me many minutes because i don't have any outfits to show you, nor have i been shopping recently enough to show you a haul, my room is still in the process of being put together - basically, my creating has been all words of whimsy as of recently. i've been thinking too much and writing (too much? is that possible?) and listening to lots of moody music and i've written a lot. so bear with me. if you are looking for pretty pictures and fashion-y things, don't bother with this post. if you're okay with some words that have been swirling around in my head, then yay. read on, baby.

hungover

she woke up with the splitting pain in her temples, the kind that zips and zigzags all over your body, tingling & splitting the flesh

the memories were there but were not quite

comprehended

they had blurred and gelled and dissolved into one another

slurred, i think thats what they called it

nevertheless, she continued to try and recall

she pressed her numb fingers to her pounding temples and the room spun more 

becoming more and more violent and oppressive until she began to rid herself of the toxins

uncomfortable, that’s what it really was 

she knew eventually it would help, at least that’s what they said 

so that’s what she was doing, she was getting rid of it all

her body removed and extracted them quickly, urgently, violently but

so much had been ingested and

with her forehead pressed to the cold ceramic pounding,

she realized she'd never fully remove it all

so her body, limp and unable pulsed. and her room, the same as always, spun, her cold mattress on its axis

she had made a mistake. the same one. over and over and over again. 

that’s what had happened.

she sat there for a while, maybe too long 

limp, unable to move, unable to speak

numb

she was numb

her fingers began to ache as she attempted to scrounge up warmth from the deepest parts of her soul

it’d get better.

it had to get better. 

yes, she had been drunk once

but she still didn’t laugh about it months later

—

when they asked her about her first hangover, she’d smile and say, “i was stupid. never again. i’ve learned from my mistakes. too much alcohol.” and then they’d move on to the next topic. 

they didn’t realize she was trapped inside a world where her alcohol had been a boy

their shallow words blurred and slurred 

and she’d think of his smile and the way he had stolen the breath right off her lips

and then she’d cry 

silently, anyways

as she realized that he was the only mistake she wanted to keep making

and what happened next always happened. without fail.

she’d slap the bar 

“pour me a drink. i need to forget.”

a thought and a match

sometimes breathing gets really hard

you’re drowning in duvets (which is a really really good thing) and then

there he is

just beyond your reach

and it just hurts

the heat of his lips 

the fire of the pen he used to tattoo his words with

the sparks of a thousand whispers

they light a fire in your lungs and you burn up 

it pulls you down

covers you up

like the duvet that was supposed to keep you warm

and before you know it, you are a shriveled piece of ash

so horribly disfigured that one doesn’t know what you were before

and you don’t blame them because, well, neither do you

all because the thought of him 

is still enough to drive you wild

favorites of the week

this t-shirt dress in black

one of my favorite bloggers, relaunched under her married name & the blog is even prettier then before (which i didn't think was possible) 

this maxi - swoon!

a devotional that's been s o beneficial recently.

kids & their moms make me smile.

that's all i've got today!

i know, it's a little lame. but i've been so ink-y as of recent, that i thought i'd share some thoughts. 

i should be back next week with fashion content. pinky-swear. 

xoxo,

brittanychars