the names of hurricanes

how to win a breakup.

foxandthefaun:

never say you’re sorry
and whatever the hell
you do, never be the
first one to call back,
to talk back,
to fall back
in love.

you’ve already lost
everything anyway,
over that first glass
of beer, when he held
your hand so hard and
asked you to board
an airplane with him
and just go baby
out of here and away.

i could teach a class
on how to win a breakup.
it’s an art you know,
and i’d tell them stories
about slitting your
wrists and crying
in the hospital
and screaming at the
nice nurse that told you
you were pretty.
i’d tell them that won’t
get you an A+
it gets you an F
which stands for
fucking failure.

i will tell them
that no matter how many
nights you scream out
his name, and no
matter how loud,
he will never hear you.
your voice means
nothing to him anyway,
it’s just the echo
of an old mistake.

here’s the secret,
no one ever wins.
so look good. wear lipstick.
fuck men you don’t love.
and never ever say you’re sorry.

you guys. portland is so homey. normally i am pissed off when it’s raining, but today all i wanna do is walk around in the rain in my new curb stompin’ boots and take pictures of strangers and just be happy and continue to not give a fuck and drink cheap beer. 

that’s all.

must get to the ocean before i go.

tomorrow i’m taking a much needed vacation to portland to see all my favorite boys (and jenna) to drink whiskey and tequila and do stupid boy things like romp around and yell and be vulgar and drunk and odd (i.e. the usual) and just bask in portland’s nostalgia and the wonderful high that comes from road trips. 

goddamn i need to get back on the road soon.

adios!

my only concrete plans for the summer are to carry my camera with me everywhere. i haven’t taken real photographs for a long time, and i’ve been needing it more than ever. pieces of me have been missing lately, and i hope that memory keeping will help me piece everything back together again.

this isn’t about you.

this isn’t about you. i have only selfish intentions anymore. this is about me and who i never measured up to. this is about losing track of myself along the way, without ever really finding myself in the first place. this is about all the good days being too breakable and fleeting and trying to convince myself that it’s okay to live unabashedly. 

but i never could figure out how to keep good things. 

this is about sabotage. the notion that love is more than the sum of it’s parts. maybe i have overused these ideas, and maybe i have hoped that i could be a whole kind of girl. a girl that someone would be lucky to have. but this isn’t about that. this is about decisions we have to make. this is about my apologies because i’m finally sorry. i never meant for these things to end up here.

summer skin:

i love the way your freckles dance carelessly across your nose, waltzing in the sunshine.

and the blonde in your hair has left me with the scent of lemon for days.