reasons not to feel heartbroken that the boy in your life isn't seeing you on his birthday regardless of how awesome the presents you made for him are:

marblevore:

• why would you be invited to whatever kind of “man evening” his friends have planned (even if you know they love you)?
• it is just one day, and far smaller a deal than you are making it
• he lives an hour away and you don’t usually manage to see each other every weekend, birthdays or not
• you knew you probably wouldn’t be seeing each other anyway, and you only feel sad now because extra-super tentative plans were almost made and then cancelled (when said friends dropped the ball and then miraculously picked it back up)

being a girl is so fucking stupid sometimes

i hear you on that one.

"so you want to be a writer"

tarts:

technicoloring:

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.
if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.

don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don’t add to that.
don’t do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

— Bukowski