the thoughts of a citizen of the planet...

wickedclothes:

There’s already a Change.org petition against the passing of Amendment One, which banned same-sex marriage, civil unions, and domestic partnerships in North Carolina. These things actually tend to be pretty damn effective.

Let’s see what the power of Tumblr can do! I know there’s at least a million Tumblr users who are against this sort of harmful discrimination and bigotry.

Sign the petition and reblog to spread the word, please!

(via the-pirateninja)

postcardafternoon: untitled by Emi Tomioka on Flickr.

postcardafternoon:

untitled by Emi Tomioka on Flickr.

(via pseudosynthetic)

The train has crashed. And the life-splitting impact has knocked me to the ground. I was anticipating the train of romantic love to return to knock me to my knees, but that one derailed on its course. Derailed by something larger. Something anticipated, but not for awhile. My father has been hospitalized, and I wasn’t nearly as scared of losing him during his bone-marrow transplant as I am at this moment. The tears come, the tears go. The music blares. The candle flickers. He was just as healthy as he has been for two years last week, and today he can barely breathe on his own. It seems as if the cancer may not be the villain in this story; rather, pneumonia has taken hold of him. I just want it to go away. Jordyn begged me to let him back into my heart a few weeks ago. And I gave in with the promise that we would not start from scratch. I wanted us to continue where we left off, with less frustration and more communication. And that worked, for a few days. We shared a trip to Disneyland for the first time, and it was disastrous. He confessed some things that tore my heart open. He admitted to dating someone while I was gone, and he admitted that he felt as if I had “fucked him over.” I not only felt anger for this kind of misinterpretation of my continued effort to show him my love, but also crippling guilt. My unwillingness to socialize and have fun made it so much worse. He blamed me for being so quiet, and rude to his friends, and my explanation was completely ignored. We fought once again, and the silence was defining on the drive back to his house. I was angry once again. Angry that he ignored me so. Angry that I was once again the be to blame. And all I wanted to do was go home and sleep. He insisted that I stay with him that night, and with much pressuring I finally agreed. But being with him didn’t feel the same anymore. I was weakening my grip on my love for him, and that both scared and comforted me. Days went by, and to no surprise his texts were few and far between. I began talking to someone new, very innocently, but I didn’t want to push things further knowing that I was still holding on to Jordyn. But, as the days dragged on, I grew more tired. I finally decided to talk to him about my feelings, or lack there of, and it blew up once again. He started out by blaming me, and then to refusing to be in my life if he couldn’t be with me, to “If I’m not here tomorrow, don’t blame yourself.” Was he serious? This spun my mind in circles and brought me back to my own suicidal adolescence, and to my feelings of worthlessness when Anthony left. I wanted to contact those close to him so he could have some support, because at this point I needed to push him away more than ever. I told him this, and his response tore violently at the binding love I had for him. It was a lie to get me to change my mind. A lie to get my attention! At that moment I was finally done. The next day I hadn’t gotten any texts from him, which was somewhat surprising as well as relaxing. It was a usually Tuesday for me; a long day at school, which would follow by a possible nap and then an evening at work. Thirty minutes until the end of my last class, my mom called. I couldn’t answer, and she left a voicemail. class ended, and I checked her voicemail as a walked slowly down the hall. I stopped in my tracks when I heard her frantic voice, and the sirens close behind her. She had called 911 because my dad couldn’t breathe. I started for my car as I tried to call her back, but she didn’t answer. I sped down the road towards the Kaiser hospital, and “Raise Me Up” by Josh Groban came on the radio. I began to cry. I arrived at the emergency room and my mom was in the waiting room. My dad had called her home from work because he couldn’t breathe and was extremely weak. Despite his unwillingness, she called an ambulance. He had been sick for over a week and didn’t want to worry her when he didn’t start feeling better. Now it was serious, and we all knew it. We joined my Dad in the ER, and even though he wasn’t feeling well, he still seemed like his old self. The doctor returned with the news that he had pneumonia I. His right lung and would have to stay over night for observation. Not only this, but his white blood cell count was at 0.7; far below what it should be. Was the cancer back? I had to get ready for work, so I left. A half hour before I left, my mom text me that they had to sedate him and give him a tube to help him breathe. It was getting worse. I went to work and was sent home immediately , and my mom and I went back to the hospital. They were going to send him up to the Critical Care Unit, so we waiting outside of the ER for him. They wheeled him passed us and my heart sank. He was unconscious, sicker looking than he was earlier, and the tube protruding from his mouth made it all far worse. We followed him and the RNs upstairs, and waiting by his side for some news. Everything had happened so incredibly fast that I was completely numb. His vitals were OK, but they weren’t sure how well or how fast the antibiotics would work considering his weak immune system. We left the hospital shortly after, and I met up with some friends for drinks. I needed to relax, and I needed people to talk to. A few beers in I got a text message. It was Jordyn. His apologetic tone was surprising, but my anger and the alcohol gave him no forgiveness. He begged me to take him back and do everything right. He begged me to stop being so stubborn. He begged and begged for me to listen. And, for the most part, I did. Our conversation the day before had apparently been an eye-opener for him, and he admitted that he was entirely at fault. He realized that he loved me more than anyone he had ever met, and that his actions in the past were inexcusable. He went on to talk about his conversation with a healer, his internal fears and struggles, and the fact that I was his Yang. Given the events of that day, I was mostly unfazed by his words. Everything he was telling me was what I had been waiting months to hear, but it was too late. I couldn’t take him back. I just couldn’t. He continued to profess his love for me and begged me to let him back into my heart, but my decision was unchangeable at that moment, so I blocked his number. I was done with it. At that moment the tables had turned so drastically. And I was done turning tables. I was done with his childishness. Done with his games. I just couldn’t bring myself to believe that he miraculously had these feelings for me as I was walking away. And I don’t know if I ever will believe it. My mom and I returned to the hospital the next morning. Earlier in the morning my dad had decided to pull the tube out himself. His breathing was harder, and his throat was very sore so it was nearly impossible for him to talk. His vitals were still stable, but the pneumonia was still progressing. That was Wednesday, March 28th. Today, Friday, after pulling the tube out himself once again, the infection is causing his lungs to deteriorate. He has been sedated and is being pumped with antibiotics. And there is nothing more we can do. The last time he was conscious he begged to go home, but seemed to understand that he couldn’t. How did his condition get so bad so fast? I’m not ready for this. None of us are ready. Jordyn enters my thoughts here and there, and although I deeply love and miss him, he is really unhealthy in my life right now. I just want to relax. I want to breathe. And I want my dad to get better.

The train has crashed. And the life-splitting impact has knocked me to the ground. I was anticipating the train of romantic love to return to knock me to my knees, but that one derailed on its course. Derailed by something larger. Something anticipated, but not for awhile. My father has been hospitalized, and I wasn’t nearly as scared of losing him during his bone-marrow transplant as I am at this moment. The tears come, the tears go. The music blares. The candle flickers. He was just as healthy as he has been for two years last week, and today he can barely breathe on his own. It seems as if the cancer may not be the villain in this story; rather, pneumonia has taken hold of him. I just want it to go away.

Jordyn begged me to let him back into my heart a few weeks ago. And I gave in with the promise that we would not start from scratch. I wanted us to continue where we left off, with less frustration and more communication. And that worked, for a few days. We shared a trip to Disneyland for the first time, and it was disastrous. He confessed some things that tore my heart open. He admitted to dating someone while I was gone, and he admitted that he felt as if I had “fucked him over.” I not only felt anger for this kind of misinterpretation of my continued effort to show him my love, but also crippling guilt. My unwillingness to socialize and have fun made it so much worse. He blamed me for being so quiet, and rude to his friends, and my explanation was completely ignored. We fought once again, and the silence was defining on the drive back to his house. I was angry once again. Angry that he ignored me so. Angry that I was once again the be to blame. And all I wanted to do was go home and sleep. He insisted that I stay with him that night, and with much pressuring I finally agreed. But being with him didn’t feel the same anymore. I was weakening my grip on my love for him, and that both scared and comforted me. Days went by, and to no surprise his texts were few and far between. I began talking to someone new, very innocently, but I didn’t want to push things further knowing that I was still holding on to Jordyn. But, as the days dragged on, I grew more tired. I finally decided to talk to him about my feelings, or lack there of, and it blew up once again. He started out by blaming me, and then to refusing to be in my life if he couldn’t be with me, to “If I’m not here tomorrow, don’t blame yourself.” Was he serious? This spun my mind in circles and brought me back to my own suicidal adolescence, and to my feelings of worthlessness when Anthony left. I wanted to contact those close to him so he could have some support, because at this point I needed to push him away more than ever. I told him this, and his response tore violently at the binding love I had for him. It was a lie to get me to change my mind. A lie to get my attention! At that moment I was finally done.

The next day I hadn’t gotten any texts from him, which was somewhat surprising as well as relaxing. It was a usually Tuesday for me; a long day at school, which would follow by a possible nap and then an evening at work. Thirty minutes until the end of my last class, my mom called. I couldn’t answer, and she left a voicemail. class ended, and I checked her voicemail as a walked slowly down the hall. I stopped in my tracks when I heard her frantic voice, and the sirens close behind her. She had called 911 because my dad couldn’t breathe. I started for my car as I tried to call her back, but she didn’t answer. I sped down the road towards the Kaiser hospital, and “Raise Me Up” by Josh Groban came on the radio. I began to cry. I arrived at the emergency room and my mom was in the waiting room. My dad had called her home from work because he couldn’t breathe and was extremely weak. Despite his unwillingness, she called an ambulance. He had been sick for over a week and didn’t want to worry her when he didn’t start feeling better. Now it was serious, and we all knew it. We joined my Dad in the ER, and even though he wasn’t feeling well, he still seemed like his old self. The doctor returned with the news that he had pneumonia I. His right lung and would have to stay over night for observation. Not only this, but his white blood cell count was at 0.7; far below what it should be. Was the cancer back? I had to get ready for work, so I left. A half hour before I left, my mom text me that they had to sedate him and give him a tube to help him breathe. It was getting worse. I went to work and was sent home immediately , and my mom and I went back to the hospital. They were going to send him up to the Critical Care Unit, so we waiting outside of the ER for him. They wheeled him passed us and my heart sank. He was unconscious, sicker looking than he was earlier, and the tube protruding from his mouth made it all far worse. We followed him and the RNs upstairs, and waiting by his side for some news. Everything had happened so incredibly fast that I was completely numb. His vitals were OK, but they weren’t sure how well or how fast the antibiotics would work considering his weak immune system. We left the hospital shortly after, and I met up with some friends for drinks. I needed to relax, and I needed people to talk to.

A few beers in I got a text message. It was Jordyn. His apologetic tone was surprising, but my anger and the alcohol gave him no forgiveness. He begged me to take him back and do everything right. He begged me to stop being so stubborn. He begged and begged for me to listen. And, for the most part, I did. Our conversation the day before had apparently been an eye-opener for him, and he admitted that he was entirely at fault. He realized that he loved me more than anyone he had ever met, and that his actions in the past were inexcusable. He went on to talk about his conversation with a healer, his internal fears and struggles, and the fact that I was his Yang. Given the events of that day, I was mostly unfazed by his words. Everything he was telling me was what I had been waiting months to hear, but it was too late. I couldn’t take him back. I just couldn’t. He continued to profess his love for me and begged me to let him back into my heart, but my decision was unchangeable at that moment, so I blocked his number. I was done with it. At that moment the tables had turned so drastically. And I was done turning tables. I was done with his childishness. Done with his games. I just couldn’t bring myself to believe that he miraculously had these feelings for me as I was walking away. And I don’t know if I ever will believe it.

My mom and I returned to the hospital the next morning. Earlier in the morning my dad had decided to pull the tube out himself. His breathing was harder, and his throat was very sore so it was nearly impossible for him to talk. His vitals were still stable, but the pneumonia was still progressing. That was Wednesday, March 28th. Today, Friday, after pulling the tube out himself once again, the infection is causing his lungs to deteriorate. He has been sedated and is being pumped with antibiotics. And there is nothing more we can do. The last time he was conscious he begged to go home, but seemed to understand that he couldn’t. How did his condition get so bad so fast? I’m not ready for this. None of us are ready. Jordyn enters my thoughts here and there, and although I deeply love and miss him, he is really unhealthy in my life right now. I just want to relax. I want to breathe. And I want my dad to get better.

Coming soon.

Coming soon.

(Source: andersonhummel, via the-pirateninja)

Human Nature

It was a mild night in October. My heart was tearing itself from yet another possible love that was hesitant to let me in. So I ran. I had been talking to him on Plenty of Fish, as well as texting, in the weeks leading up to the night we met. My heart was taking a chance in ever turn I made on the streets of Pasadena that evening, and ignored Adele’s beautiful voice coming from my stereo speakers as I pulled up to his house. She set fire to the rain, and so would I. He was shorter than I had imagined, and his perfect presence made me very nervous. His eyes told stories of strength and boys lost, and of my future. We didn’t spend much time together that night, but I wanted to see and know much more of him. Our first couple dates were quiet and relaxing, although filled with emotion and passion. I fell for him fast, and he saw it in my eyes. This, as well as his own feelings, frightened him and caused tension between us. The more I fell in love, the more frustrated I was of his hesitation to allow himself to feel the same. And this ultimately was our downfall. But, mostly mine.

I am no stranger to love lost, and I don’t think I will be for awhile. The stronger I become and the more I learn about myself and what I want in a relationship makes the pain more bearable, but does not take away from the fact that I must be deeply in love in order to feel its absence. I know it has been much easier for him to let this stubborn Scorpio run away, but I know there was a moment there when he loved me. And that is what my heart cannot bear. I learned more about myself, loved the man I was when I was in his presence, and felt my heart beat harder than it ever has in my entire life. So that must mean something, right? Well, it means that I am paying more attention to life’s lessons. It also means that my next love will bloom more beautifully than it would have if I had never met him. But is that all he was meant to be in my life? Another muse?

My best friend and I visited Manhattan for the holidays, and I fell deeply in love. The busy city streets, the tall buildings, the city lights, the brisk December air. I felt more at home than I have in a very long time, and I want to return so badly. I have been having some severe stomach issues over the last few months, mostly fueled by the emotions I feel when I think about my lost loved, and these issues made our trip nearly impossible to enjoy. I have changed my diet, and this has seemed to help a little, but I know quitting smoking for good will make a huge difference. I have teased my love of traveling, and I am craving another adventure in the near future. Maybe Seattle? Las Vagas? Italy? Or maybe New York once again? We’ll just have to wait and see what my future still has in store for me. But, the waiting is the hardest part. I have spent my whole life waiting for things to happen, for things to come together, for love to find me. I need to stop waiting.

(via missliz84)

Many great stories start out as dreams, if only we could remember them long enough to bring them to life on paper. My story is coming.

The Ghost of a Good Thing

Am I being held back by the fears I still possess from a dead love? Am I capable of letting go of my worries and letting love take over once again? Will he hurt me like the others? Is he exactly what I need? Exactly what I want? When will I stop trying to find something to discount it all?

These questions haunt me more than before. I have suddenly found a being that makes my heart do things that it only has memories of. Oh, these violent delights! I want to learn everything there is to know about him, because if his feelings parallel my own, then there has to be something amazing to this. I cannot allow my past loves to affect this in anyway, because if it is truly real, it must flourish. My heart does not beat like this for nothing. I am capable of answering every question I have if I just sit down and listen what my heart is trying to tell me. I have healed. I can get past my haunted history. I can let love envelope my being and my heart again, because I know it’s what my life is meant for and what I have been craving. He is everything I am looking for in a partner, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot find a single wrong in his heart. So why not let go of the braces that hold up my walls? Why not take a chance? Why not?

Anew

It’s dim in your soul tonight
Your heartbeat is slower than I remember
And yet being here feels just as right
As my very first day alone
And that brisk air in December

There’s a new kind of love
Here in the place that you belong
That empathy where it’s always been
And the bitter half of the dove

Sooth these muscles beneath my skin
And remember the depths where I can fly
I know now that it’s not everything to win
But, oh is it something when I try

Long since the birth, again I am a man
A new kind of reality that sticks
You looked for control, not chaos, as I ran
And I sing from these depths as the flame
It licks

My heartbeat accelerates in its cage
Your eyes, they duel with my rage
My pain flirts it’s way through every page
Your life heads east
As I am drawn by the sage

And we grasp tightly to what we know
And what we feel
And what we understand
And what we need
To what calls to us
And what loves

There’s a new kind of love
Here in the place that I belong
The empathy where it’s always been
And the better half of the dove

Just had a realization of galactic proportions. If I was in your position, I would have left me too. Great timing, Shane.

Shooting Star

I wish I couldn’t see flashes of my future through my third eye. I wish my grandfather was still here. I wish relaxation could come easier. I wish I was already finished with school. I wish I had a better job. I wish I could do my job better. I wish I could find my true love in a heartbeat. I wish my father would get better. I wish I knew when (or if) those flashes of my future will occur. I wish I could be a better person. I wish time would slow down. I wish time would speed up. I wish sleep would come easier. I wish my heart was indestructible. I wish I would stop dreaming of you. I wish I wasn’t still in love with you. I wish.

Likes
Following
Follow me