Nostalgia is a dirty liar that insists things were better than they seemed.
I Never Learn
my heart cracked, really loved you bad
gun shot, i’ll never get you back, never get you back
My pills won’t relate to this.
And it’s been way too long since I could care.
But this song is still exceptional.
And I love it
So I came home from school to see my 7 year old sister putting skittles with my antidepressants, I went up to her and asked “Hey what you doing?” She looked at me, smiled and said “Skittles make me happy so I put them with your medicine that makes you happy so you can be extra happy.” That was the cutest thing i’ve ever heard.
how can you not reblog this
Underneath The Pill
Sun casts dancing silhouettes on the river
like my thoughts
as the beautiful boys pass behind me
with their undercuts
those aggressive tattooed emperors
of coffee shops
of rock music
of those ruins of my dreams.
As I lean back
I can feel something
emerging from beneath the surface.
It’s fairly huge and it becomes very quiet
just before it breaks through the still water.
It’s very familiar and it somehow
stings me with great power.
Beneath the layers of chemicals
Under those piles of pills
Right below the patches
There’s still that vulnerable
It feels inadequate
it admires and loathes the boys
behind my back
not being sure if it envies them,
feels less of a person when they’re around,
or just wants to be with someone like them.
And as this familiar thing jumps briefly above the surface,
it covers up the whole sun just for a moment
and then falls back into the deepest
of the stream.
That endless stream of thoughts
that endless stream of consciousness.
“One day,” I hear the stronger one whisper, “one day, you won’t care. And one day, you will finally understand that it’s okay not to fit in and to be the perfect boy you really are. Just remember. It takes time. I promise you.”
I finally lay down and wipe that single tear
of terrible anxiety
off my cheek.
I’m a dragon, you’re a whore
Don’t even know what you’re good for
Mimicking me is a fucking bore. To me.
Lana, you’re getting repetitive, girl. I like the song, but come on, you can do better than this.
I feel that I would not have become as good of a writer, lover, feeler, or person had I not stumbled upon and fully immersed myself into Fiona Apple back when I was in high school. I couldn’t fathom how she could find a home between two of mankind’s most disparate traits: fragility and…
Fiona keeps on inspiring. And I fucking identify myself with this post.