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So I started a Facebook group for people in Australia with cars like mine. Expecting about 5-10 people to join. A few weeks later and 50 members strong. We have stickers!!!

Another great day in Newcastle.

I carved your name into my bones. Like the canvas that’s been painted anew; the world will never know the reason behind the art. But it’s still there, demanding that the painting be beautiful despite what it has left behind.
I demand to be felt.
We see the world through the screens of our phones and so we are left with photographs instead of memories.
I demand to be felt.
Anonymous
asks:
Ive just spent the last 3 hours reading your blog. Oh my god some of your writing is so heartbreaking. How have you dealt with it all? My boyfriend has been diagnosed with depression and I want to help him. But I dont know how. Sometimes it feels like he doesnt want me around.

Hi, and thank you for taking the time you did! Im sorry to hear about your boyfriend, let me tell you something.

When I was young, I used to pull apart my toys, just so I could fix them again. Every time I accidentally broke the arm or leg off of one of them I would surgically re-attach it with a combination of scotch tape and putty. When I was thirteen, I thought that I could do this for my friends, I thought that with my words and my love, I could fix their sickness. She unzipped her forearm and I held the wound shut. I told her she would be okay in the same way that my toys would be okay with the tape around their arms; that is to say, they were held together, but never complete. She went into hospital, it would be eight years until I saw her again. She was the first good thing I couldn’t fix. She was nothing but a friend to me and I never wanted more, but I wanted her to be okay. I saw her again after eight years and she had survived adolescence , but she will never be okay.

Please understand; this is not to say that we are not needed. But, she never needed me to fix her. Because people are not things that we can fix, we cannot pull them apart at the seams and put them back together, we can’t restore them when they break themselves, or when they are broken by others.

But we can help. We can help as much as we can by being there when we are needed, and not saying a word when all they need is silence and a place to rest their head. Thats all I can say.

Sometimes. Just sometimes. Newcastle isn’t so bad.

Sometimes. Just sometimes. Newcastle isn’t so bad.

i3tyler:

maddehhey:

oprahsmom:

toocooltobehipster:

how is he posting this from 4 months in the future

this was taken in February

americans

I’m American and at my school we do MM/DD//YYYY so fuck you and your stereotypical ways

EXACTLY! The rest of the world does it DD/MM/YYYY, Because we are normal enough to recognise that it Should be that way.

i3tyler:

maddehhey:

oprahsmom:

toocooltobehipster:

how is he posting this from 4 months in the future

this was taken in February

americans

I’m American and at my school we do MM/DD//YYYY so fuck you and your stereotypical ways

EXACTLY! The rest of the world does it DD/MM/YYYY, Because we are normal enough to recognise that it Should be that way.

I remember trying to write exactly what it felt like; I wrote about knives, I wrote about drowning. I wrote about everything I had never experienced to capture the one thing I had. It felt like shit. But it didn’t matter what it felt like. What mattered was what it actually was. It was the worst time of my life and I wasn’t even there to see it. I was somewhere else in my mind while my body died. I didn’t care about anyone in my life and to be honest, those people died back there with me. I’m awake now and right where I need to be. That’s all I want to write about.
I demand to be felt
This is not to say that you aren’t special; this is to say thank god you aren’t special!
Neil hillborn
We were supposed to feel invincible, we were supposed to take risks and do drugs, we were supposed to drive fast and throw the first punch. Then all of a sudden, you’re twenty-three years old and your hands still shake when you have a drink. Your knuckles ache when its cold. Everything you have ever done is reminding you that you were not invincible, you were just borrowing days. We romanticised our own pain and suffering and now we’re just so sick of dying that we tell ourselves that our best days have already passed. It’s not that we want to die. It’s that we think we already have.
I demand to be felt.

sportsgoth:

"wow I’m really stoked to see what this 9th grader has to tell me about how the real world works"

- me every single time I come on this website

God I love this puppy

God I love this puppy

blueeyesbrokenheartbrokensmile:

-_-

This is straight up the dumbest fucking thing I have ever read in my life and the person who wrote it should be fucking ashamed of themselves for promoting the messages that this carries. Go fuck yourselves. Sincerely,A 23 year old male with a size 12 fiancé and a 14 year old sister who won’t wear the t-shirt I bought her because she’s “too fat”

blueeyesbrokenheartbrokensmile:

-_-

This is straight up the dumbest fucking thing I have ever read in my life and the person who wrote it should be fucking ashamed of themselves for promoting the messages that this carries. Go fuck yourselves.
Sincerely,
A 23 year old male with a size 12 fiancé and a 14 year old sister who won’t wear the t-shirt I bought her because she’s “too fat”

What they don’t tell you is: it’s a lot easier than people think to let go. The hard part comes later; a year on and your hands still shake every time you have a beer. You can still taste it in the back of your throat when someone walks by. Like a razor to skin will heal and scar over time. You created a hole and filled it with your craving, that hole never closes up and it will never be filled again. Like a second stomach that would kill you if you kept it full. A year on, and I still cant stop my hands from shaking.
Things I learned in a year without cigarettes.