hyperion*

Status: why is my pro pic rotated @god why
Joined: April 10, 2013
Last Seen: 2 years
user id: 356389
Location: new jersey
Gender: F


i regret logging into this account bc it's so cringy why did i ever write any of these things time 2 die
also i do art that's all there is to know


Quotes by hyperion*

"Oh god, I can't even choose which option should be heads and which should be tails, that's the degree of my indecisiveness. When you epitomize the superlative of something, is that a good thing or a bad one? I can't decide."
 
i love seeing people's accounts here change and grow as they do in terms of how they use their words and how their style changes from account to account i think it's really great i rly don't care much about this site aside the small group of followers/followings i have but even outside of that it's really nice to see a person's evolution catalogued here 
i just want to feel alive —
i want to hear music over the sound
of the air rushing past my ears,
when the car windows are down,
on a dimly lit night,
and sea spray tickles my nose coming from
somewhere in the distance,
surrounded by a friend or two and quiet laughter
and knees knocked together on the console.
and sure, i'm just describing
some low budget indie film cliche,
but a dose of cliche is like a shot of
adrenaline, and i just want naivity
and stupid mistakes coursing through my veins
for a night, so when it comes to an end
i can watch the sunrise from a ratty blanket,
and feel my eyelids go down as the sun comes up;
i want meaningless memories that i can feel at my fingerips,
everytime the wind blows a certain way.
 
the world is so beautiful and i am so small
i only wish that i spent less time crying under the covers,
and allowed myself to discover this earlier 

that there are mountains wider than minds, 
and lakes that are ice blue like robins' eggs,
and robins' eggs that little birds are going to hatch from, 
and that every little pebble is different and nothing is exactly the same

there are sunsets and sunrises, and new days and so many futures;
and i no longer want to die, but the longing to see all of these things 
in the little time we all have left hurts almost just as much
thirteen years old
backpack heavy
palms sweaty
gripping the key tightly as i try to unlock the door
before anyone sees 
a young girl alone on the street

nineteen years old
heels in hand
palms sweaty
gripping the key tightly between my knuckles
ready to lunge at the itchy hands that try to grab me 
as i walk through dark alleys back to the dorm

twenty-seven years old
heart pounding
palms sweaty
gripping the key tightly as i sneak out of the apartment before dawn
before he wakes up and 
sheds more bruises on me that no one else will see

fourty years old
voice shaky
palms sweaty
gripping the key tightly as i pass my daughter her first house key
and i hope that she won't need to shift it between her fingers as she walks home
or rush to lock her doors
and i hope it won't leave her palms sweaty with the fears of everything i have seen
my lungs are as clenched tight as my fists
and i'd probably die before they unconstrict
i'd probably die before you started loving me too


you make my skin itch and my heart race
but you also help me breathe some days
and honestly i'm terrified because i've
never been so scared and so brave
at the same time and
panic and elation aren't things
that should feel good together
yes i am an ocean and you are only a drop but i am still made up of you and without you i would never be as whole as before and i just keep washing onto shores to get rid of you but i can't i can't i can't

they are the ones who didn't make it,
the ones whose notebooks are filled with scrawl
and scribbled out words,
those who struggle to find inspiration
and find inspiration in their struggle.
those for whom effort is not only lifeblood,
but poison. 
success an apple, so crisp, so sweet,
laced with hatred by life itself.
they are the ones who worked hard,
built bridges only to burn them,
they are the ones who stayed home,
because the world took too much. 

i dream about the simple things,
your eyes behind my eyelids,
your voice ringing out to call my name,
i dream about the trivial things;
mundane things, but with you in them.
i dream about you giving me the time of day,
but i think i'm only in love with the idea,
because loving you outside the dreamscape
is turning out to be a nightmare that
only the most vivid horrors could surpass.
 
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