I can still touch my gut and feel
the missing parts of me, the ache, the empty
sound of metal against metal and my mother
calling me pretty. Calling in sick. A scraped fist.
.
And before all of this, there was nothing:
a stranger in airport security,
thinking ‘this is the most anyone has touched me
in years.’ Their worst fears
on a conveyer belt. Their worst fears through an x-ray,
and the businessmen laughing. Before this,
everywhere felt like leaving. Before this
were takeoffs and landings and
suitcase wheels spinning
on tile.
.
Now I am calling empty places home
and when I’m alone
I touch the places in my gut where I have outgrown
the coming and the going. Alone, and knowing
that I can never leave again without breaking. Alone.
And I know that the aching has a name
but I’ve forgotten it.
.
When I left my childhood home for the last time
I didn’t cry. I locked the door,
the sound of metal against metal
hell. Rang the bell
and listened for the echo. When I was young
leaving was so easy, but it gets tiring.
.
And now there are parts of me left everywhere I have loved
and I am feeling their absence.
Alone.
My flesh left in piles on a hill in Virginia. Alone.
My bones shattered across the Carolinas.
Alone. Fingers left behind in Tennessee. Alone,
and my mother is calling.
.
In an airplane, a seatbelt clicks
and someone starts over.
They leave a limb on the tarmac.
On Moving; Hannah Beth Ragland (via allmymetaphors)

here’s a picture of me of my last few minutes in our old apartment in my movin overalls before we chucked the couch off the railing

MY BICEPS ARE SO SORE

traveling at night is weird because I’m in one place and I watch the sunset from behind a glass window and dilapidated railroad stacked apartments between sickening green lawns and picket fences and then all I see is the reflection of my empty face and the seats and white lights in the window and then suddenly I get to a place that should feel familiar and like home and fill me with energy for a new adventure and all I feel is anxiety and an overwhelming wave of disorientation how did I end up here at this glowing train station and this buzzing state of mind

allmymetaphors:

well well well 

allmymetaphors:

in the mood to cry in public 

bagelfraud:

a self portrait

(via kennafofenna)

allmymetaphors:

me at every single party ever

gradschoolproblems:

how I approach much of what I do in grad school.

(via sphenoidslesserwing)

It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change.

Charles Darwin

(via purplebuddhaproject)

(via purplebuddhaproject)


Aidan Koch

Aidan Koch

(via birches-crown)

jesse is packing to go home tomorrow and even though im going to see him again in like a week for whole week my heart is heavy and my stomach is churning dont leave yet im not ready for see you laters