I want more of this.
“But I don’t want small talk. Text me, and without saying hello, tell me why you got so angry at your neighbor this morning. Tell me why you have a scar shaped like the letter S on your palm. Send me paragraphs about the time you spent at your grandmother’s house that one summer. Call me when I’m half asleep and tell me why you fear owls . Tell me about the first time you saw your dad cry. Tell me about your friends’ childhood funny stories, tell me about the little girl who used to annoy you when you were kids. Text me at 4 AM to tell me about the dream that woke you up , come at my door to show me your writings . Talk to me about your wildest dreams that you feel embarrassed to share with anyone Go on for hours about things that may not seem important because I promise that I’ll be hanging on to every word you say. Tell me everything. I don’t want someone who just talks about the weather.”
— warmsnow07 (via wnq-writers)
To be able to share my anxiety openly would be such a scary thing. The mental health taboos… I care for so many I’m often left caring for myself so when I let my garud down I’m so scared to show all of me. To be left picking myself up alone.
Sounds so simple seems so hard to hear…so far for B
Communicate. Communicate. Communicate.
Drove over to drop something off last night and 90 min passes, how the hell. Just Laughing, joking, talking and carrying on. My stomach hurts from Laughing so much. That’s the kinda people I love.
Perpetual Commotion 