Ceriette
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Joined: August 8, 2014
Last Seen: 9 years
user id: 385387
Joined: August 8, 2014
Last Seen: 9 years
user id: 385387
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Ceriette's Favorite Quotes
This world has taught me to always look at things with a
critical eye-
and to always be the distant one, in order to save yourself from being left behind
to always put yourself first: because no one else will –
and to always view things with a sense of humour, but to never take crap from anybody.
This world has taught me to be the controlling one, to never be controlled –
and to always smile, yes; but also have time to cry
but to never cry in front of anyone, because that displays weakness and weakness is always wrong.
This world has taught me that being vulnerable will get you nowhere, and let’s face it-
sympathy is an extinct emotion, the mere traces of it left behind on the fake smiles on people’s faces
because that is all that’s left of our materialistic world and everyone in it.
This world has taught me that caring for anyone other than yourself is pointless
because in the end you become the useless one.
Yes, the world has taught me many things; but I can’t seem to learn my lesson.
and to always be the distant one, in order to save yourself from being left behind
to always put yourself first: because no one else will –
and to always view things with a sense of humour, but to never take crap from anybody.
This world has taught me to be the controlling one, to never be controlled –
and to always smile, yes; but also have time to cry
but to never cry in front of anyone, because that displays weakness and weakness is always wrong.
This world has taught me that being vulnerable will get you nowhere, and let’s face it-
sympathy is an extinct emotion, the mere traces of it left behind on the fake smiles on people’s faces
because that is all that’s left of our materialistic world and everyone in it.
This world has taught me that caring for anyone other than yourself is pointless
because in the end you become the useless one.
Yes, the world has taught me many things; but I can’t seem to learn my lesson.
if i could id take that smile and inject it directly into my
blood stream. my parents warmed me about drugs in baggies sold on
the street but never the ones with teeth and a heartbeat.
I'll be the reason you finally understand why storms are named after people.
I'm made up of nothing but flaws stitched together with only good intentions.
It is terrifying to think that one day you will
trust somebody enough to let them see you naked. You will undress and remind
them that you’ve stretch marks and birth marks and scars from
having chicken pox when you
were little and scars from all of the other things now. You will
blush thousands of shades of
red, painting yourself as a rose losing its petals.
And that person - that person will
take it all in. And I wonder if they will reassure you. But mostly, I wonder if they will
even see anything worth reassuring you about. I hope they see each
freckle on your back as if it’s a star and you are the whole universe to
them
he was cold and it sometimes hurt to touch him, he made my
skin itch with the tell-tale signs of frostbite setting in
and sometimes i would cringe. i never shied away though,
because the pain was worth the touch, the blessing.
permanently, he was tainted blue, like lake fryxell or the Odessa sky in spring.
bundled in blankets and burning his hand with the iron, he shivered.
i loved his cheeks, they had a sign of life - they were red, blood vessels rushing to the surface - a kiss from jack frost. i was jealous.
i made him angry once and it was beautiful. snow fell from the ceiling, a blizzard in the bedroom, defying logic and reason. it did not stop for hours - it did not melt - and when his mother died; he cried, and the room cried with him - lightening and thunder; the dark roar that makes children scream and hide beneath their beds. this, too, lasted for many hours. the snow melted, and my carpet was soaked with the smell of petrichor. he apologised and i did not understand why, because i've always loved the rain - the sound, the smell, the touch, the taste.
i bet he tasted like rain.
permanently, he was tainted blue, like lake fryxell or the Odessa sky in spring.
bundled in blankets and burning his hand with the iron, he shivered.
i loved his cheeks, they had a sign of life - they were red, blood vessels rushing to the surface - a kiss from jack frost. i was jealous.
i made him angry once and it was beautiful. snow fell from the ceiling, a blizzard in the bedroom, defying logic and reason. it did not stop for hours - it did not melt - and when his mother died; he cried, and the room cried with him - lightening and thunder; the dark roar that makes children scream and hide beneath their beds. this, too, lasted for many hours. the snow melted, and my carpet was soaked with the smell of petrichor. he apologised and i did not understand why, because i've always loved the rain - the sound, the smell, the touch, the taste.
i bet he tasted like rain.
