I wanted to taste the stars.
1. Love.
2. Leave.
3. Shatter.
4. Weep.
5. Heal.
6. Stay.
Anonymous:
the fool

Tell an embarrassing story. 

oh god there are so many to choose from. 

when i was in like seventh grade i was on my period and i was still all jumpy about it and some guy came up and was like “Auriel? You’re bleeding” and i immediately burst into tears and turned around and looked at the back of my skirt. It got really quiet, everyone in my homeroom looked at me for a minute, and then he pointed at my arm. I’d scraped my elbow. 

Anonymous:
The hanged man

Would you sacrifice your own life to save someone else’s?

It depends on the other person. 

Anonymous:
Your writing is absolutely lovely. I am able to lose myself in it and I feel a connection to the words being written. I am baffled that with mere words you can do that. I wish you the best in your writings and all you do in life. As always, I look forward to when you will write a new poem. -C

Thank you, C. You’re beautiful, baby. 

Anonymous:
The Sun

Describe a childhood memory.

When I was learning how to ride a go-kart (I was like 7) I lost control and didn’t know how to brake. I rode under a pickup truck, hit a hill and caught air, and flew into a telephone pole. The kart flipped and I was stuck under it for at least 10 minutes.
The only injury I got was a cut on my ankle.
Little me was badass. 

I am too tired to fight.
My bones are growing heavy now,
my eyes are drifting shut.
My arms are too sore to hold the gun.
My fingers refuse to pull the trigger.
I want to be a soldier,
but I am too weary for this war.
Anonymous:
The lovers

What qualities would your ideal partner have?
Smart, funny, understanding, likes the same things I like. 

I'm bored. Send me a Tarot Card
The Fool: Tell an embarrassing story.
The Magician: Do you have a special talent?
The High Priestess: Are you good at keeping secrets?
The Empress: What do you desire most?
The Emperor: Do you have any family traditions?
The Hierophant: What is/was your favourite school subject?
The Lovers: What qualities would your ideal partner have?
The Chariot: Have you ever had to fight for something?
Strength: What gives you strength?
The Hermit: Could you cope with living alone?
Wheel of Fortune: If you won a million pounds, what would you do with it?
Justice: If you could be a super hero (or villain) what would you call yourself and what powers would you have?
The Hanged Man: Would you sacrifice your own life to save someone else's?
Death: If you were able to reincarnate, what would your next life be?
Temperance: Do you have good self control?
The Devil: What do you think your worst quality is?
The Tower: Describe your dream home.
The Star: What inspires you?
The Moon: Describe a dream (or nightmare) you've had recently.
The Sun: Describe a childhood memory.
Judgement: Have you ever done something that you were really ashamed of?
The World: What country would you most like to visit?
Source: catsandthelaw via graveyardghostprouvaire

fancyferengi:

hey guys, I just had a pretty cool idea. you know how next week (october 26- november 1) is asexual awareness week? it is INCREDIBLY important that everyone, asexual AND allosexual, makes it a Huge Freaking Deal. let’s make it blow up. let’s make it so that next year is asexual PRIDE, not AWARENESS. 

This is really important. Everyone deserves awareness and pride in their identity! Keep this in mind next week.

Source: fancyferengi via theoncomingfandoms
I am too tired to fight.
My bones are growing heavy now,
my eyes are drifting shut.
My arms are too sore to hold the gun.
My fingers refuse to pull the trigger.
I want to be a soldier,
but I am too weary for this war.
I would miss you less if you were really gone.
Anonymous:
Can I just say that you're writing is phenomenal, keep doing what you are, atleast now you know that it's helping one person

Thanks, firefly. It’s nice to know that people appreciate what I’m doing :)

6:45 a.m.
I wake up tired.
Not drowsy,
but the kind of tired that settles deep in the marrow of your bones,
the kind of tired that makes you shake.

6:48 a.m.
I spit the blood into the bathroom sink. I try to ignore how the insides of my cheeks taste like raw meat. I cough, and roses bloom on my lips. I think maybe I should invest in a mouthguard, or a therapist.

7:05 a.m.
Study in the car on the way to school.

7:55 a.m.
Last night my friend and I agreed we’d rather die than go through another school day. This morning, we are both in homeroom, with half-moons of regret hanging underneath our eyes.

9:45 a.m.
Two classes in and I’m already numb.

12:15 p.m.
Prom committee meeting, Spanish club, and trying to finish a history paper all at once. I don’t have time or the desire to eat.

1:30 p.m.
I’ve heard seven people mention suicide today and they were half-joking at best.

2:30 p.m.
Poetry Club is trembling verses read by kids who are all hanging somewhere in the balance between college prep and an early grave.

3:15 p.m.
Time to run 4 miles on 2 hours of sleep.

5:30 p.m.
Look at the bed and think about collapsing into it. Look at the desk and think about AP credits. Look at the desk and think about working for McDonalds. Look at the pocketknife and try not to to think about anything at all.

11:10 p.m.
The rest of the family is asleep. I hope my Spanish teacher disregards the shaky handwriting, the teardrops on the page. I’m sure she will. She’s seen it all before.

3:15 a.m.
I’ll get three and a half hours of sleep; tonight is a good night.

3:30 a.m.
That is, if I ever drift off.

3:40 a.m.
I lie awake, but I am dreaming.
Dreaming of GPAs higher than the average amount of hours I sleep,
Of SAT scores to match the number of panic attacks I’ve gone through in the past few years.

3:49 a.m.
Now my stomach is in knots.
I dread the Psychology test next week, I dread the project due on Friday, I dread the laundry I haven’t done in two weeks, but most of all I dread

6:45 a.m.

6:45 a.m.
I wake up tired.
Not drowsy,
but the kind of tired that settles deep in the marrow of your bones,
the kind of tired that makes you shake.

6:48 a.m.
I spit the blood into the bathroom sink. I try to ignore how the insides of my cheeks taste like raw meat. I cough, and roses bloom on my lips. I think maybe I should invest in a mouthguard, or a therapist.

7:05 a.m.
Study in the car on the way to school.

7:55 a.m.
Last night my friend and I agreed we’d rather die than go through another school day. This morning, we are both in homeroom, with half-moons of regret hanging underneath our eyes.

9:45 a.m.
Two classes in and I’m already numb.

12:15 p.m.
Prom committee meeting, Spanish club, and trying to finish a history paper all at once. I don’t have time or the desire to eat.

1:30 p.m.
I’ve heard seven people mention suicide today and they were half-joking at best.

2:30 p.m.
Poetry Club is trembling verses read by kids who are all hanging somewhere in the balance between college prep and an early grave.

3:15 p.m.
Time to run 4 miles on 2 hours of sleep.

5:30 p.m.
Look at the bed and think about collapsing into it. Look at the desk and think about AP credits. Look at the desk and think about working for McDonalds. Look at the pocketknife and try not to to think about anything at all.

11:10 p.m.
The rest of the family is asleep. I hope my Spanish teacher disregards the shaky handwriting, the teardrops on the page. I’m sure she will. She’s seen it all before.

3:15 a.m.
I’ll get three and a half hours of sleep; tonight is a good night.

3:30 a.m.
That is, if I ever drift off.

3:40 a.m.
I lie awake, but I am dreaming.
Dreaming of GPAs higher than the average amount of hours I sleep,
Of SAT scores to match the number of panic attacks I’ve gone through in the past few years.

3:49 a.m.
Now my stomach is in knots.
I dread the Psychology test next week, I dread the project due on Friday, I dread the laundry I haven’t done in two weeks, but most of all I dread

6:45 a.m.