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because the city's always more beautiful at night

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The Moon is a Loyal Companion [May. 22nd, 2017|07:01 am]
because the city's always more beautiful at night

theidolhands
[Tags|]

“The moon is a loyal companion.

It never leaves.

It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do.

Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light.

The moon understands what it means to be human.

Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.”

― Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me
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(no subject) [Dec. 8th, 2015|12:16 am]
because the city's always more beautiful at night

celluloidgirls
im sick of wanting to lay next to someone i cant have. sick of trying to get over the sadness of not being able to have them. sick i wanting them to want me there too. sick of wanting them to kiss me or want me or love me. im sick of wanting you and not knowing if you want me too.
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jet lag city, always. [Aug. 8th, 2014|12:18 pm]
because the city's always more beautiful at night

_deathspells
[Current Location |wherever the light is]
[mood |ugh]
[music |morrisey]

a thousand questions are spinning through my mind, but only a few make through my mouth (why did you leave me though?)

the pain inside a small thought can be so deadly sometimes, because behind all those fucking lies maybe you can find comfort. (win the fucking fight)

punch, spit, punch.

who would’ve noticed?

(i) think that the hardest part of the pain was recognizing which one of both was more difficult to take, (ha ha)

but i realized that everytime you smack me down, only makes me /laugh/ because the stupid theory of the conspiracy started like this, and i know that you are growing up tired, as my skin grows more bruises.

hold fucking (tight) to that borderline because that’s the only one that’s keeping you through reality.

you don’t understand how much self hate burns my skin, because as i fucking said i really didn’t care about the bruises, or either (the scars) knives that hurt like words.

show me some fucking guts now.

a mistake?

oh, well if i’m a fucking mistake i’d like to know what the hell are you.

—-crack crack crack x2——

maybe you’re true, my love, i’m a nature’s freak, a real mistake. (—a smile—) but i’m a fucking radiohead’s song stuck in repeat in a lonely room full of emotional bullshit.

i didn’t chose.

i don’t have control anymore.

i guess we’re fucked up now.
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Fairy Tale [Mar. 21st, 2013|02:37 am]
because the city's always more beautiful at night

suckyfucky
I dated a rich boy once. I didn't like it. They're too optimistic, too goal-oriented in the worst possible way. We aren't compatible when we both live in a fantasy, so let it be mine. I'm so much better at pretending than they could even try, so I rely heavily on them to be the level-headed end of this relationship. We will simply float apart, away if we both think we can have what we want, what we're entitled to. I need a boy not blinded by capitalism, the kind that knows what reality tastes like, one who will remind me to take a step back and look at how stupid I am.
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and the real test is just learning how to sit here [Jul. 6th, 2012|03:58 pm]
because the city's always more beautiful at night

paintmarks
I can feel my heart racing, my hands have not been still for weeks. My mouth is dry, my lungs cannot inhale deeply enough for me to continue breathing.

I don't know what comes next, I don't know when I'm going to see you. I feel lost, scared, terrified--excited. I'm not sure which I feel most, though, and my mind is struggling to prioritise reactions to anything that happens.

Then I see you.

I cannot reconcile the person standing in front of me as the person I've been talking to for the last three months, I cannot work out what I'm supposed to do next. But instinct kicks in and my left foot disappears from underneath me and moves forward. I am moving towards you, as fast as my feet will carry me. I am inhaling air like there is none left in the atmosphere--that I will surely die.

My arms are around you before I can even work out where they are going, I am breathing you in, holding you tighter than I swear I've ever held anything in my life. Scared you will disappear in front of me, that this is a dream, that if I let you go it will all have been a mirage.

And I muster the first words I can force my lips to speak.

"I'm here," I tell you, and all at once, it hits me. I'm here. I am here.

"I'm here," I tell you again, and it's as if I was never not here.
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you came to me in the afternoon [May. 16th, 2012|07:49 pm]
because the city's always more beautiful at night

paintmarks
[music |Sarah Jaffe - The Way Sound Leaves a Room | Powered by Last.fm]

I'm really, really glad you and I never lasted. I'm glad you're back with her, because honestly, you deserve one another. I'm not particularly bitter about what happened between you and I, nor am I sad. I'm just... I don't even know what I feel, actually. Because I'm not sad. I don't regret anything. I don't miss anything. I don't feel like I have to keep wondering "what if". I don't feel like I lost anything. I don't feel like I want anything back. I don't feel like I was cheated. I don't feel like ... I don't feel anything. I don't ... I don't want anything.

Part of me hopes you noticed that I removed you on Facebook, part of me hopes you've been playing the last time we spoke over and over in your mind. Like you're trying to work out what went wrong, and how we ended up here, after all the crazy things that happened.

And I do hope you're happy, because I wouldn't want you to feel guilty for feeling whatever you did. I don't. In some ways, we were both what one another needed. Some companionship through all the shit that we were respectively dealing with. Distractions. Proxies for other things.

Unfortunately we lost one another in the process. And sadly, that's just what happens, sometimes. And I'm disappointed that you couldn't be honest with me about how you were really feeling, and I'm sad that you had to go back to something that was so clearly fucked, but ... I don't wish for you anymore.

I barely think about you, honestly. You lasted the longest out of any of them and yet... I barely think about you. It's less like you and I happened than any of the other things that did.

And surprisingly, for the first time since I met her, I don't want anyone. I'm not pining, I'm not in love, I'm not hurting. I'm not missing, I'm not sad, nor happy, nor do I have any desire for anyone in my life. And yes, sometimes that makes me a little sad, but quite honestly, I think, for a long time, I've needed this. I've needed some space to work out who I am, and what I want, outside of any other external influence. Without someone to become a chameleon for. I hate being a chameleon, and yet, that's what always happens. I change. And I don't like changing. I like who I am, where I am came from, who I am. It's taken me a LONG fucking time to get there. But I am okay with that. And I'm not going to apologise for who I am, or the things that I want.

They are what they are and that changes for absolutely no one.

If that means I'm single for a few years to come... well, then so be it. But the point is I've worked out that I can be on my own, and I can be okay, and I can still find happiness in the things that go on in my life.

I just... need to keep myself busy. So I don't have time to think. Because as soon as I start thinking, I mess myself up. And I can't go there again.
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tuesday [Dec. 10th, 2011|05:01 pm]
because the city's always more beautiful at night

savantnicholas
[Tags|]

"when you hug me like this, if any of us moves just a little bit, there'd be a kiss," she says and his chin could feel her mouth shaped into a smile.

"what if i kissed you? would it mean anything to you?"

"um, nothing, i guess. it'd be just a kiss." they were friends -- and that's all there is to it, she liked to think.

"what if i kissed you now?"

"then i'd congratulate you on your first in twenty-one years." there was a hint of laughter in her voice.

he breaks their embrace and goes for it.

it was not the innocent peck that first kisses usually were -- it was firm as he gave a short nibble on her lower lip.

"congratulations," she says.

he kisses her again.

"that one's your number two.

"three.

"four.

"five. six. seven.


a short pause.

"eight. nine. umfff, you're doing it too hard."

"because you're not responding."

and then she kisses him back.

"twelve. thirteen. fourteen. fifteen.

"stop counting."

"eighteen. nineteen."

seconds, minutes pass.

"i lost count."

he kisses her again.

"were you aiming for a hundred?"

and he could feel the contour of her smile as he caught her lips in his.
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The Last Kiss Before the Goodbye [Nov. 11th, 2011|11:16 pm]
because the city's always more beautiful at night

genericambition
[Tags|]

(Explicit/Probably offensive.)

The Last Kiss Before the GoodbyeCollapse )
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Mod Hat - You're Not Alone [Nov. 9th, 2011|11:33 am]
because the city's always more beautiful at night

firebomber
[Tags|]

A lot of us in this community struggle with various illnesses—physical, mental, and otherwise. We have been bullied, abused, and assaulted. We have seen our friends and family abused and assaulted, and some of us have been abused and assaulted by friends and family.

I would be very, very surprised to find someone in this community who has not thought of killing themselves. Suicidality is common and comes in many different forms, from passing thoughts to vivid images to "what if" to active plans to attempts and, unfortunately, "successes."

There are many myths about suicide. The most personally upsetting is the idea that talking about suicide is just a "cry for attention" and people who are really set on killing themselves wouldn't talk about, or people who kill themselves are somehow "destined" to do it. Talk of suicide is always a cry for attention—a cry that must always be heard and answered.

If you believe a friend is considering suicide, there are some signs to look out for, such as the giving away of personal items, lack of interest in former hobbies, depressed mood, etc. One way to help a person in this situation is to tell them that you are there for them, to actually be there for them, and to not shy away from asking them if they are feeling suicidal and if they have a plan. Another myth is that even the mention of suicide will harm someone who is already suicidal; in my personal experience, talking about it has been extremely beneficial.

If you are considering suicide, know that you're not alone. There is always someone to talk to, if not a friend, then a kind stranger.

If you're in the US: 1-800-273-8255 or http://www.suicide.org/suicide-hotlines.html

Additionally: LGBTQ folks can call 1-866-488-7386 or
http://www.thetrevorproject.org/

If you're in the UK: http://www.samaritans.org/

If you're in Canada: http://www.suicide.org/hotlines/international/canada-suicide-hotlines.html

If you're in Australia: http://www.lifeline.org.au/


Please feel free to add additional numbers and countries in the comments and I will amend this post.

There is usually someone lurking around this community (it's called 2amtomorning for a reason) so if you are NOT in a crisis but need someone to talk to, you can usually find someone. Feel free to send me a message as well and I will respond to it as soon as I can. There are also success stories that have come out of this community of complete strangers helping each other deal with their personal struggles and forming strong friendships that have transgressed the internet.

I would also like to use this post for people to talk about their experiences calling suicide hotlines, dealing with suicidal thoughts, loved ones who have attempted and/or committed suicide, etc. By all means, you can create a new post in the community talking about your experiences, or you can simply reply to this one. You can leave anonymous comments in this post if you choose not to use your username.

You're not alone. You never are. <3
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(no subject) [Nov. 8th, 2011|01:12 am]
because the city's always more beautiful at night

avec_bonheur
I'm suicidal and I'm so so scared.

I can't do it anymore. I can't. The thought of being here for a few more weeks makes me have panic attacks. I just can't.

I can't wake anybody up and say that I feel this way. I don't want to be a burden. I'm just so so so scared and I just can't do it anymore.
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