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 caitlyn
19
new jersey
writer/idiot

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"I wrote a poem about it, and then threw it away, because that’s the last thing I need right now: More words dedicated to people who will never dedicate a single thing to me."
— Thought Catalog (via winonaryderfanclub)
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Chris pine
Chris maple
Chris birch
Chris oak
Chris palm
Chris mahogany

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hollowtowers: Shelley Jackson’s Skin project, a 2095-word story published exclusively in tattoos, one word each on as many willing volunteers, so it can never be read in its proper order, but just exists, pulsing, out in the world at all times.  I am in love with everything that is this and I respect this artist completely.
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"You are so good. So good, you’re always feeling so much. And sometimes it feels like you’re gonna bust wide open from all the feeling, don’t it? People like you are the best in the world, but you sure do suffer for it."
— Silas House, This is My Heart for You (via fromonesurvivortoanother)
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dear-lover: Eric Clapton fell in love with his best friend George Harrison’s wife, Pattie Boyd, became a heroin addict for four years because he couldn’t have her, and wrote the song ‘Layla’ about her. She eventually divorced George and married Eric, but they divorced after 10 years together.
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hereunoia: How perfect would it be to wake up at 6am one morning, grab a wad of bills and stuff them in your pocket along with the car keys and hit the road? You’ll carry no phone of course, only some money and a loose sweater in case it gets chilly. You’ll forget your lighter too, and will have to stop somewhere to borrow someone’s. You’ll drive all day. Stop at some funky place to have breakfast and become friends with the perky waitress who in turn will refill your coffee for free. There’ll be a quiet guy sitting on a faraway booth, you might leave your phone number on his napkin. Then you’ll hit the road again. Perhaps you’ll buy a disposable camera and take pictures, perhaps you won’t.  You could try and stop a good looking stranger and ask him to help you change your tire. He’ll realize how your tire doesn’t need changing and simply go along with your game. You’ll get back into your car having learned two things: how to change a tire and his name. You’ll walk into a stranded souvenir shop, the ones were a freshman kid is working the cashier and is counting down the hours until he gets home. You’ll buy a bag of chips, some chocolate, maybe a Coke or two. You’ll ask him if he’s dating a girl, if he is you’ll remind him to treat her right, make him call her up right at that second to remind her that he cares for her. You’ll walk away carrying a scrunched receipt and knowing a fifteen year old girl somewhere is smiling. On your way to the car maybe someone will ask for your autograph, thinking your famous. Not wanting to dissapoint you’ll sign your receipt as Cinnamon Blue and kiss it for good measure. Maybe you’ll craft an engagement ring out of tiny dandelions and hand it over to the first couple you see. You’ll tell the girl to blow out the flowers if she plans on saying yes. Later you’ll make an illegal U-turn and begin to drive back home. You’ll stop for some coffee back at the dinner where you had breakfast and tell a different waitress how to change a tire and hand her the disposable camera you bought. In exchange she might lend you her lighter. You’ll arrive home at 6am. You’ll park the car and check over the missed calls and messages you received, perhaps the quiet guy gave you a ring, perhaps he didn’t. You won’t answer anyone, instead you’ll go to bed.Tell me, how perfect would it be?
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Anonymous asked: I read your poem on facebook today. It is not your job. It's going around, with attribution, at least where I saw it. I googled your name until I found your site because I wanted to tell you how much it touched me. I read it at least four times today and I welled up each time. But tonight, at home, I read it outloud and I cried from the first line to the last. Tears ran all the way down my neck. Holly from North Dakota.

holly. thank you for finding me and thank you for telling me. I’m sorry you cried but I’m returning the favor now because your message made me cry. I’m so, so happy you like my poem. thank you.

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