*
Rekoh:
moj kapetane sedi,
ovako zaista više ne vredi.
Vidim da sigurno nešto jesam.
Ovde sam.
Tamo sam.
Jedno sam.
Sve sam.
Pa ipak, ne znam šta sam i gde sam.
Krenem ponekad pa se bojim:
koračam,
a ko da u mestu stojim.
Stanem ponekad, pa se stidim:
vidim,
a ko da ništa ne vidim.
Stanem ponekad, pa se bojim:
da l’ ja postojim
ili ne postojim ?
moj kapetane sedi,
ovako zaista više ne vredi.
Vidim da sigurno nešto jesam.
Ovde sam.
Tamo sam.
Jedno sam.
Sve sam.
Pa ipak, ne znam šta sam i gde sam.
Krenem ponekad pa se bojim:
koračam,
a ko da u mestu stojim.
Stanem ponekad, pa se stidim:
vidim,
a ko da ništa ne vidim.
Stanem ponekad, pa se bojim:
da l’ ja postojim
ili ne postojim ?
(Source: free-your-mind)
(Source: considerthishippie)
Cape Point, South Africa
Where the Indian and Atlantic Ocean meet.
This amazes me.
I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it, doesn’t get it. They may think they get it, but they don’t. This is the sign you’ve been looking for. You were meant to read these words.
She had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, like when you’re swimming and you want to put your feet down on something solid, but the water’s deeper than you think.
(Source: april-leighx3)
Essentially, if our secrets are secrets because we are told to be ashamed, then we must share them. There is no shame in being sad or struggling or trying to heal. We are all desperate, depraved and sacred. We are all terrible and brillIant. I can list all the things that can make a girl want to escape her own body (re: patriarchy). But I’d rather list all the things that make me want to stay in my body, and adorn it like a home, rub oils into my skin, tell it how sorry I am for trying to leave, for trying to hurt it into submission.
(Source: inthesignofevil)
