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Tiffany. 21. Pretty gay. San Francisco to Humboldt County. some of my thoughts written down in the form of poetry and rants mostly. let's be tumblr friends

It’s really sad to me, people’s inability to connect or rather, the deliberate choice not to. And being so fucking judgmental, too judgemental of slight actions and words. You really thought you knew what I was all about even before you really knew me. And you put yourself on such a pedestal. But really, you have nothing to show for. No real substance. And omg, It’s so funny.

I feel slightly bad for you, actually. And It’s just a shitty feeling that I had to be a part of your shit storm. Who does that? I mean who goes so out of their way to DO that? What the fuck, man. The worst part is, I think the whole time you knew. You knew. How you felt. But you didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell me. At all. And I was just dragged along to believe something completely utterly wrong. I mean how else did you expect me to feel? I guess words do fall short and can mean absolutely nothing at all.

life is life is life is life. and it’s so good.

Note to Self #356

Do not lose
your sense of self
by elegantly placing
yourself upon a shelf,

misplaced among
the genre of
same books.

in solitude,
you show the most.

note to self #237

okay,
okay,
okay.

i am here. here. here.
not there or anywhere
but here.

so,
start living it.

I just, don’t want to
compete for anyone’s
love

For “love”,
and the pursuit of it
has left me feeling
defeated

Fact is,
I am an underdog.

I will care more for you
than you for me,
as my journal entries
have proven
already

Truth is,
I want a love made
just for me

more than just
some glitter
and temporary
glee

The Red of My Eyelids

Closed tight,
sunlight eyes.

The daytime,
somehow,
more intimate.
No dark, dimly lit
bar lights to hide
behind.

The clutch of round
after round of drinks,
pouring down into
our throats and
straight to our heads,
and our hearts.

But, I’m not sure
how else to be
with you.

It seems you pour yourself
into me, only once
you’ve finished
your wine.

However,
I could be wrong.
Maybe,
it’s just harder for you
to reveal without

the clutch of round
after round of drinks
hidden behind
dark, dimly lit,
bar lights.

romanticize, romanticize

i’m convinced that
i fall in love with a little bit
of everyone’s little bits
of secret beauty that
they let be known,
disclosed without
even knowing so

i love your flaws.
especially the one’s
you’re probably not aware of,
nothing big
perhaps not even flaws
maybe,
just the way you are

in your
eccentric, quirky,
talented, humble,
weirdness way.
i guess by flaws
i mean uniqueness

the way your existence
almost challenges
the normative status quo
of how people ‘should be’
if that makes any sense
at all because it does to me

I don’t really like boys
but you are my type

spring semester

eclectic friends,
fewer house shows,
my all-girl band.
aloof potential
love interests,
punk-hippy dippy,
infamous, big eyed,
gorgeous
art metals girl.
coffee more
than water,
poor diet.
later nights,
lack of sleep.
falling out, back in
and out again.
meeting you.
a new smell.
revisiting
spirituality,
loneliness.
liveliness.
missing her,
not missing her.
first time therapy.
remembering
self-love