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Shelf of Memories

@shelfofmemories / shelfofmemories.tumblr.com

I own a bookshelf covered in memorabilia. Here's some of that memorabilia in words.
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I’m so dissatisfied with myself as a performer. i don’t know what to do

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On tests when you have no idea what bubble to fill.

shelfofmemories

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To You

Damn... Damn. 

That’s all I have to say about seeing you. Damn....

I’m lost for words. Ugh I don’t know what to say.

Last concert we stared at each other with longing in our eyes. Wishing for each others company and finally receiving it at the end. And now, whatever was born at the last concert has died. 

I mean Dammit. Ugh.

And when you fucking smile. It feels like you smiled so much less when I was around. Maybe I just want to see that you hurt. I want to see that this whole crap load of us not being together hurts you as  much me. I want it to hurt you because then maybe i won’t be alone in the fucking pain.

I’m pounding these words on my keyboard because I don’t have anything to smash.

Please read this.

Please. Please read this. 

I need you to.

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To whom it may concern

I don’t know if you will read this. I just hope you do. that one time I showed you my tumblr, I hope you remember, because I want you to see this. I want you to see this. 

And I really should be going to bed, but this is maybe the one way I can get a message out to you.

I miss you. But the missing isn’t so hard when you’re not around. I don’t really miss you as much as you are missing from me. And that hole you left behind, well I finally filled it. 

I don’t really know what I’m saying.

I guess I’m just saying that I want to tell you about all the embarrassing moments you missed, about the creepy guy who likes me, that I articulated my dreams for the future. And you missed all that. I can’t believe you missed all that.

I want to tell you...

You are missing so much Joel.

It doesn’t hurt as much you know. It only hurts what I think about what could have been, but wasn’t really. 

Whatever.

I just hope you get this.

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After awhile all tumblr quotes seem to sound the same...

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shelfofmemories

I love you. I love every fiber and every being of your soul. I love how you remind me of a bunny. I love how you have blonde hair and brown eyes. I love how you have that habit of running towards your children. I love how you have an R2D2 lunch bag. You’re adorable. Did I tell you I love that? I love how you love hugs just as much as me. I love how sometimes you read my mind. I love how you can just pull me out of my misery. You’re amazing. Did I tell you I love you?

(I wrote this for my friend Steven)

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shelfofmemories

Throwback thursday

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There will be times

There will be times when I don’t write at all. When my creative juices have run dry, when I can’t find the time, or when life gets too dull.

There will be times when inspiration hits and runs through me like electricity in my veins. The force, the urge to write will be so strong that you must get the words out before they float away like little butter flies never to be seen again. You have to reach out and grab those butterflies before they fly away.

There will be times when I don’t want to write, and the metaphors don’t come, and the words don’t flow and everything is just wrong.

There will be times when I create brilliance but the only one who will ever see it is me.

There will be times when my fingers get stuck on the keys.

There will be times when I don’t write at all.

#life#writing#my writing#shelfofmemories#rejects corner#inkskinned#spilled ink
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wnq-writers
Up until the age of fourteen The age of now, The word ‘suicide’ was impersonal A sad event, yes, But on the horizon, The distance. Up until the age of fourteen The age of now, The word ‘jump’ meant nothing Nothing but Van Halen, Hop scotch, skip rope Up until the age of fourteen The age of now, The words 'death’ and 'hospital’ Were reserved for the elderly, The sick. But after, at the age of fourteen, The word 'suicide'is a Reality, a blaring horn, A bugle, a church bell. But after, at the age of fourteen, The word 'jump'meant something else, It meant pressure, decisions, Fear, despair. But after, at the age of fourteen, The word 'death’ meant The young died too; It meant that gold does not last, No matter how hard You run down dark hallways, Catching glimpses through barred windows Of the sought-of glints. But after, at the age of fourteen, The word 'hospital’ meant Everything last– Last breath, last plea, Last time to tell everyone What you were too scared to say before. Up until the age of fourteen, I was too blind to notice That what I needed was in front of me, That the door was closing, That the lights were turned off. I opened my eyes to see That I lost something precious, That I closed a door, That I turned off a light. Up until the age of fourteen, I did not truly believe in forgiveness and hope. But after, at the age of fourteen, I began to.

irri-descence (via wnq-writers)

Source: wnq-writers.com
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shelfofmemories

Skip the small talk

Can we just skip the small talk? We’ve talked about the same thing for years. Same tests Same worries Same boys It’s all the same. Let’s just get in the car, drive to nowhere and share our stories. Can we just finally be real people with each other? Can we finally let our walls down? Can we do that? Can we just skip the small talk?

#repost
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