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the year I’ll turn 25 (on the 25th)

probably the only consistency about being me, is my inconsistency. My age may go up, but at least there’s one thing that will always remain the same.However the lack of writing-consistency here, I always experience a deep craving to write down my thoughts when a new life year enters the stage. I’m guessing it’s a return to a deeper need for my creative soul to spill its contents onto paper, and to make room for new thoughts, for new moments to move in....

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Paint it black

I spent a long time contemplating whether I wanted to share the story behind these many fractured words that inspired the tattoo I got at the end of December. Because in short: it is not a pretty story. I got the idea for this tattoo about two years ago, but wanted to wait for the right time to have it painted on my body. I wanted something to look at every day to remind myself how far I’ve come, and how much shit I’ve actually been through. To remind myself that I’m still alive, that I’m still breathing and that...

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Coming home

It’s been too damn long.I was wandering for too damn long.And not in the sense of wandering the world, how much I would like that to be true (hello Sangria, port and Italian wine), but in the sense of wandering aroud in my mind, in circles mostly and getting nowhere fast. I stared blankly at four bedroom walls for much longer than I’d like to admit, I fell down on way more floors than I’d like to admit, I talked myself out of happiness more than I’d like to admit; never once into it. I screamed at my own lungs...

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Birthdays & other life necessities

It's kind of a funny story, this one.November has always been somewhat of a waiting game for me; like the night before Christmas when you can't sleep because you know you'll be getting fab prezzies in the morning and chocolate and basically the whole *magical* process of eating whatever you want without giving a fuck about whether or not you'll still fit into your carefully chosen NYE dress because Christmas only rolls around once every year and your mindset is all like "#yolo, if I die tomorrow at least I will have had the immense orgasmic pleasure of eating the...

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Sparkle a little brighter

Sometimes silence feels safe. Like a warm blanket and hot tea on a night where you ditched your friends for a lonely house and an even lonelier bed, with a novel wherein the words dance like music and you forget life for a moment as if it were a mere accessory to your brief bliss. Like hiding under the covers from a world that doesn't make sense. Writing this on a night where I ditched my friends for a lonely house and an even lonelier bed doesn't deliver the same feeling though — to me, silence equals nor safety nor happiness....

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@christinesmeyers