Damaged Youth

Me, Myself & I

Personal | Myself | Video Before you get too involved, I will warn you: I am a fucking mess. I wish I lived in Wonderland. I wish I could wear fancy jewellery and pretty shoes all of the time. I’m obsessed with the Olsen twins, Clemence Poesy, Marilyn Manson, Lady Gaga & Lana Del Rey. I want to travel the world. I want to go to France. I want to live there for a few years. I want to wander the streets of Paris armed with a camera and a French phrase book/dictionary and make various attempts to converse with the locals in an awful French accent and a terrible knowledge of the French language. I love French accents. ‘Phantasmagoria’ is my favourite word alongside ‘valentine’. I want to collect glossy magazines and make high fashion collages to put on my wall. I like the way glossy magazines feel and I like the way books smell. I love people who speak in a “flowery” manner and who use pet names for too often in casual conversation. ‘Sweetie’, ‘cutie’ and ‘pumpkin’ are three of my favourites. I have the social skills of Wednesday Addams and I quite like it that way; I don’t really like getting close to people because I get extremely attached to things very easily and I find it almost impossible to move on. It only results in pain. I’m a very anxious, nervous and paranoid person and I cry far too much. My mouth tends to give away my mood and I hate my smile. Well, not so much my actual smile, but more the way my face looks when I smile because I have chubby cheeks and weird eyes, they look Asian (my eyes, not my cheeks). I want to cover my body in tattoos. I want a portrait of Edgar Allan Poe on my foot. I want a poem down my ribs. I want a map of the world around my wrist. I want a huge back piece and something on the inside of my bottom lip. I want to dye my hair a crazy colour, just to say that I’ve done something that is somewhat rebellious in my life. I want to grow my hair down to my waist and spend hours playing with it and then skip around my house and pretend that I’m Rapunzel. I want to have picnics in secret gardens, adventures in the forests, I want to take road trips in an old beat up car and get lost in a foreign place with someone I love, even though I would be terrified. I want to drive down dark roads at night at a dangerous speed, just for the rush of it. I want to do a trip around America and drive from one end of Route 66 to the other. I want to stop in every town and buy a souvenir. I want to go to a new town and speak in a ridiculous accent and use a ridiculous fake name, just for fun. I want to go to the mountains, the seaside, the countryside, the city, the desert, the rainforest and the Arctic. I want to live near a beach with white sand and crystal clear water. I want to travel the world and build up a collection of silly keepsakes from each place, like seashells and baseball caps and gum wrappers and pencil sharpeners and ticket stubs from movies and concerts and train journeys. I want to kiss in the rain. I want to be the little spoon. I want kisses on the end of my nose and cuddles when I’m sad. I want spontaneous hugs and sneaky kisses. I want sparkles, glitter, sequins, diamantes and shiny things. I want Japanese dolls and romantic names and pretty sounding words. I want beautiful music and meaningful lyrics. I want a collection of books on metaphysics, astrology, psychology and falling in love. I want poetry books. I want piles of books, hundreds upon hundreds lying around everywhere. I want poetry on my bedroom walls. I want fairy lights to light up my room. I want fluffy pillows and silk bed sheets. I want a comfy rug, pretty pictures, inspirational quotes, Polaroid pictures and a little bit of mess. I want to fall asleep with someone playing with my hair and whispering silly things that make me giggle. I want high heels, ripped tights, baggy tops, oversized jumpers and messy hair. I want to bite the crispy coating off of the Minstrels before eating them. I want the bag of popcorn to still have a few kernals left at the bottom. I want to eat in fancy restaurants and get a little bit too drunk in each of them. I want to walk with confidence and occasionally prance instead of walking, just to satisfy my inner child. I want flowers, lots and lots of flowers. I want roses and lilies and tulips and daisies everywhere. I want pretty notebooks tied up in a ribbon. I want to spend all day writing. I want to write until the words are incoherent to everyone else but precious to me. I want pretty words, soft words, regal words. I want to watch Alice in Wonderland and Anastasia until I know every line off by heart. I’m obsessed with the Romanov story. I want to be able to quote books off of the top of my head in any kind of conversation. I want to laugh so hard that I end up crying. I want to cry so hard that I end up laughing. I want to be compassionate, considerate and calm. I want to make other people happy. I adore the feeling you get after someone tells you that you made them smile. I want to chase my dreams, find my purpose and be content with my life. I want to change the way people view the world. I want to climb trees, bruise my knees and rip my jeans. I want to get my hands dirty. I want to lie in the long grass and read a book. I want to live by the sea and go swimming every single morning. I want to sit alone in a peaceful garden, drinking tea and eating fancy cakes. I want teacups to be filled with glitter and cupcakes to be filled with inspiration I want to be remembered for something. I’m never where I am, I live inside my head and I’m sure I would be enchanted to meet you. Facebook | Twitter | Blogspot

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May 19, 2013

Can I just buy all the bags on the Ted Baker website?

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May 19, 2013

I’m sorry but I hate these new Dove adverts.

“We can see beauty in others but not ourselves”.

Well, yeah.. That kind of happens when society and the media throws pictures of beautiful people in our faces 24/7, along with advertising beauty products to make us more beautiful and to cover up our flaws. You’re then shocked to discover that women can’t pick out something that they love about their own body?

Okay. If you say so, Dove.

2,439 notes

May 19, 2013

I am not a graceful person. I am not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don’t see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.

Anna Peters (via souls-entwined)

(Source: winterkristall, via einfachjana)