missed connections: tell him you liked when your thighs used to touch in the taxi, tell her you wished you could have cried with her under the stars but the circumstances were never right, tell him he used to make things make sense in your dreams almost every night, tell her she’s just as whimsical as all of the beautiful things she adores, tell him you still imagine yourself holding a sword every time you’re scared thanks to those nice sentences he shared with you four years ago, tell her she’s the reason you still have hope on otherwise hopeless days, tell him you would liked to have walked along the train tracks with him and got to know each other if you were not so shy, tell her you wrote an english essay about her being a lost soul and got an A- on it because it was too long, tell him even though you don’t know him it breaks your heart to read about how sad he is, tell her she looks pretty wearing baggy t-shirts even though that doesn’t sound like a compliment, tell him he is a good listener, tell her you’re sorry, tell him you remember everything he says to you because maybe you love him, tell her that it was never her fault, tell him you still think about him every time you pass that repair shop, tell her you admire her ability to show her sadness creatively, tell him you felt some type of a connection when he sang that song even though you had never heard him talk, tell her you wrote down a sentence she told you about timelines and the beach and a boy she used to love because the way she worded it was sad and beautiful, tell him you miss him and regret not spending more time with him, tell her you wish she didn’t kill herself because she and you could have been friends, tell him you fell off a skateboard in a parking lot and lost your breath and cried and later that night you sat on the balcony of that hotel and cried again while wishing he did not die, tell her she’s a good kid, tell him you are curious as to whether or not he is still scared, tell her it’s not so bad, tell him you dreamt you and him were the only people who survived, tell her you’ll always remember that night she held onto your orange sweatshirt and acted like you were her mother, tell him he should be famous, tell her you still have that letter, tell him for a while there he was the inspiration behind all of those creations he claimed to like, tell her thank you for all the nights she distracted you from your bad thoughts, tell him you wrote his name in the sand as a joke and an old lady read it out loud, tell her she deserves to be happy so it’s a good thing she usually is, tell him you don’t really hate him, tell her she reminds you of yourself, tell him you thought his drawings were interesting, tell her that it will be okay and somebody will hold her hand soon enough
I AM AUBREY
last.fm, youtube, flickr, facebook, random post, ask
(my writing)
(my doodles)
(me) (my dog)
-
Post reblogged from the ocean of consciousness with 38 notes
please please please
there’s a good alone and a bad alone
i am either going to have to deal with one or the other
and before you leave this world
you’re going to make damn sure
that i know the difference between the two
you wake me up in the middle of a dream
and try to keep me there
you put me in the backseat with four blankets and tell me
i am going to show you an important feeling
try not to wake up
too much
you take me to a field
it’s four in the morning
we walk for a while without saying anything
and then we fall down
and we stay put
two bodies placed in the middle of a pretty nowhere
this is how it will be
this is the rehearsal
we are practicing
preparing
i cannot see you now
you are under tall grass
a fictional romanticized death scene—-only not yet
although you are hidden from sight
i feel your pinky on my wrist
reassuring me of my own pulse for once
and i can still hear you breathing beside me
and i recognize the pattern of your breath
it is all so familiar to me by now
the way each inhale seems surprised
and each exhale seems relieved
you are constantly scaring me
and reassuring me
i can hear you
even over the band of crickets performing
your favorite song
just for us
you tell me
please please please
don’t ever forget this
and now the little dipper is glaring at me
like it knows my dirtiest secret
but wants me to know
that it’s not so bad
and it’s waiting to scoop me up
to a safer place
or perhaps it already did
i close one eye and hold my index finger up and
i can almost touch that tiny spoon it’s so damn close
you’re reciting your favorite poem
about death
in a whisper
for the tenth time today
and this time i’m actually listening
because maybe ten is
the lucky number
i close my eyes and count from one to ten
and imagine a kid finally opening his eyes
during a game of hide and seek
yelling ready or not here i come
my eyes are still closed as i count backwards this time
ten nine eight seven six five four three two one
happy new year
i think of entering a new year without you
and another one after that
and another
and i think i’d rather fake a dreamlike practice death scene
in this grass field with your pinky on my wrist forever
than face any amount of time without you
but you say to me
it’s unavoidable
you say to me
it’s natural
you say to me
it’s beautiful
you say to me
you will be okay
you say to me
this is what being alone feels like
and isn’t it wonderful
you bring me to the city one day
we walk on pavement this, pavement that
we walk past buildings
after buildings
after buildings
all we talk about
is which building we’ll go to next
we stand in these buildings looking at
framed paintings of fields
and i am not sure if the punchline
is the framed painting or the frame itself
but i think the frame just punched me in the gut
there are signs everywhere that say
please please please
do not pass the rope barrier
there are no thank you signs
we give a deaf man wearing rags seventy-five cents
it won’t help
we look up and notice
how much higher than usual the sky seems
and will you really be
that far away
i think about how short that six-foot-five-or-so
awkward business man on the subway seemed
in retrospect
and how that fifteen-or-so-year-old girl
who was surrounded in pigeons
and holding that FREE HUGS sign
might roll her eyes at herself
thinking back to this day
when she turns twenty-one or twenty-anything
and is drunk and making witty and sarcastic remarks
at a stranger’s house party full of people she never hugs
and suddenly i no longer care
that she hugged me
or that she didn’t
everyone in the world is here
in this city on this never ending pavement
and everyone says excuse me
excuse me excuse me excuse me
sorry sorry pardon me cash or credit
you stop me right as we’re crossing a busy street
i look at you and think are you out of your mind
the cars yell at us
i think we’re going to die right then and there
and you scream over the traffic that
this is what
being alone feels like
and isn’t it terrible
and please please please
don’t worship my gravestone
worship the grass that grows around it
Post reblogged from the ocean of consciousness with 19 notes
are you on drugs or something
give me a fictional place to meet you in my mind once my phone dies. not the tree i want something new. i’m gonna be out here for a while i think
[ok. there is a bridge, on the outskirts of the wood past the field. youll find a river, follow the river north (look for the north star). youll round a bend and there will be a bridge. the middle of it has caved in. ill be sitting on the edge of that bridge, dangling my feet over the edge where the wood has rotted away. look for me. ill be waiting for you.]hours later,
i’m still outside and i’ve been listening to music with my eyes closed imagining this whole elaborate fictional situation where i looked at my life from all these different points of view and lightning bugs were carrying me in the air and i made a movie in my brain for an hour and the ending was sad and i’m insane
i am insane
it was really pretty and at first it had all this false hope for pretentious show to make it seem cooler but then it got realistic and it was really sad i feel weird i should sleep
it started off with finding you on the bridge and then you brought me on a tour of my consciousness which started with the happy room. there were like 20 songs on shuffle and every song brought me to a different mindset/room/situation but you were always the tour guide. except for the last song (you and whose army) i had to return to reality and open my eyes and be alone and that was so sad and scary after all the fictional shit
you were the tour guide well my image of you was and when it got realistic i got sad cause it wasnt even really you and nobody could see what my brain was coming up with but me cause i’m completely alone and blah blah blah and so i made the image of you tell me to tell the real you about it so it wouldnt be so lonely
there was one room called the regrets and memories room (samsketi by sigur ros. perfect song for it) and i played out all the things my heart wanted to do but my brain stopped me from and the dialogue was all artsy indie movie shit stuff ugh i love my brain sometimes. but that was during the hopeful part of the tour
there was a happy room with music where a bunch of people who were pretending to be happy were dancing and then there was a truly happy room up on a deck projecting off the roof of the happy room and the only way to get up there was to be truly happy
and i tried but there was air pushing me away from it cause i wasn’t happy and i asked you if you had ever been there and you said no and i said could you get in? and you said i don’t know because i’ve never tried because i never wanted to go in alone and i’ve never met anyone who could get in
and then later on since it was my brain and my rules we broke the rules and turned off the air and went up there and it was mostly empty but every so often the shape of a human would blink like a lightning bug and stay there for a few seconds and then disappear because people are only truly happy for short moments but it was pretty anyway and if you took a picture of the glowing person before they faded you got a picture of what they were doing and thinking and feeling in that moment that caused them to be truly happy
and we saw the national live with a bunch of depressed lonely people and i didn’t know any of them and you were like “that’s the point.” and there was a part where i saw all these people who had died that i knew and knew of and i asked them questions about their deaths (especially the ones who killed themselves) and none of them could remember dying but they remembered the rest of their life and i was like what the hell why can’t they remember killing themselves wasn’t that a part of their life? but no apparently they died long before they actually died and this was how heaven worked in my mind. i even asked is this how heaven works and you said heaven is just an idea and i said yeah i know
and i saw the past and i made my future up and i saw the fictional characters me and my sister make and i did everything, i did everything
[are you going to do everything now?]
not right now. right now i’m one of those sad strangers at the national concert. like i said this awake dream thing didn’t have a happy ending but it was really interesting
oh and i could look inside people and everyone had different colors and designs and objects floating in them based on how their mind worked and M. was empty inside and E. had a lot of rusty pipes and C. had rainbows and i didn’t look inside myself or you, sorry
we kept returning to that bridge between situations and the end of the bridge was also where the world ended and it was a giant cliff and people were killing themselves and i kept finding reasons to not jump even though i could if i wanted to
also in the happy dancing room at the end, there were a bunch of explosions outside and i asked you if it was the end of the world (everyone in the room was still dancing cause a fast song was on) and you said “only if you want it to be!! just snap your fingers” and every time i’d snap my fingers the world would switch from peaceful to ending and it was fun
AND THERE WAS EVEN A PART WHERE I COULD SEE EVERY DREAM I’VE EVER HAD IN THE CLOUDS AND I COULD JUMP UP AND LIVE THEM AGAIN IF I COULD REMEMBER THEM WELL ENOUGH AND I LIVED OUT THIS ONE WEIRD BUT NICE ONE I HAD A FEW WEEKS AGO AGAIN and added onto it
then i was covered in felt from felt land (i’ve never told you about felt land but it’s this uh thing i made up) and i was safe while riding in a train and then a bus and then a subway
even though i knew i was alive i kept asking did i die in real life is that why i’m here. and you’d say no you can return whenever you’d like, just open your eyes and turn the music off, isn’t that great, you’re alive, aren’t you lucky,and i said yeah me and 6 billion other people
damn
Post reblogged from the ocean of consciousness with 17 notes
i just woke up from a dream that i woke up and actually wanted to face the day (in this dream)
i remember wanting to take a morning shower even though i felt clean already
with lavender soap and a lover (i don’t know who it was, but i was loved and i was myself, not some fictionalized daydream version of myself with a different name)
it was warm outside and i lived in a jungle
always warm outside, always calm in my body
i felt the air constantly hugging me, the world constantly patting me on the back with encouragement
i roamed the streets barefooted
i passed two giraffes hugging each other on the way
i walked to a nearby store (that doesn’t actually exist) to buy a friend (who doesn’t actually exist) some snacks
i felt powerful and purposeful and nothing was scary enough to be worth avoidingi had a dream that i wanted to be awake
“can we go to some place that doesn’t exist?”
“yes, of course, which one?”
“whichever one is the safest and has the most love”
“okay, i like love”-
“i am scared”
“of what?”
“reality” - no - how i react to reality
“oh, same”
how is this going to work? we are dreams and we have to wake up now
but i’ve been waking up in panic attacks
(i am not terrified of you - i am terrified of myself)
(as Anywhere Anyone by Dntel plays)
Question with 8 notes
Anonymous asked: i can't cope with my depression, it is literally unbearable to sit through every day, every light in my life gets blown out and it's at the point where there isn't even the smallest spark for me to hold on to
take some time to yourself let go of stressful responsibilities if you can and realize it’s okay to do that sometimes and sort things out in your brain and try something new and breathe and walk down roads you’ve never walked down before and listen to music you’ve never listened to before and be aware that everything feels wrong (allow yourself to admit that) but also be on the look out for ways to make it feel right (allow yourself to want that), and if something feels good in the slightest bit, expand on that and focus on that and go for that. keep goin, lil anon, you can do it
when you are not by yourself, surround yourself with people who are very interested in things, even if you’re not very interested in them yourself. surround yourself with kind people who wake up early and want to tell you all about this thing they enjoyed even if at first it makes you want to punch them in the face due to jealousy or whatever else. but do not compare yourself to these people. just absorb them. in the long run it is good for you
aka surround yourself with people who aren’t worried about losing any sparks to hold onto. surround yourself with people who radiate sparks and when you can, steal some for yourself
but i’m gradually losing my sparks too and i pretty much just talked to myself via your anonymous ask so i don’t know why you’re telling me this of all people
it was either this for a reply or “sucks”
Chat with 2 notes
nothing matters
- 1: I actually have an envelope addressed to you and in the event of my death it's to be sent to you and it pretty much explains every secret I have ever kept from you.
- 2: Show me the envelope.
- 1: Why?
- 2: Because it's the only thing that could prove that anything matters right now.
- 1: I can't. It's in a box.
- 2: Show me the box.
- 1: I can't. The box is in the bank. I can't break into a bank.
- 2: Show me the bank.
- 1: I can't go out right now. It's raining and my windshield wipers are broken.
Video with 145 notes
hey everyone look at this thing i made last night
these are a bunch of candid fragmented clips from my life i found and edited all together. the song in the background is black hawk waltz by chris garneau. the words are something i wrote in april after looking through a lot of craigslist missed connections.
they’re mostly strangers.
i think this is the saddest thing i’ve ever made
Post with 24 notes
my cousin broke his neck while diving in the ocean a few weeks ago and is pretty much completely paralyzed from the neck down as of right now. he cannot talk past a whisper. no not even a whisper. he’s just mouthing words right now (this might change but for now—-)
i am not very close to him but still close enough to have seen him every holiday and watch him grow up from a safe distance
prior to this he went to college for music performance, was really into and good at playing classical guitar, and running and swimming and goddamn all of his passions involved his body somehow and that’s all he’d talk about
when our families visited each other he was always the center of attention. all of our discussions revolved around whatever he’d bring up and we’d just go along with it. it was never quiet because he would never shut up (whether it be with his voice or his guitar)
our family visited him and his family in the hospital today (first time i went) and every once in a while it would get quiet because even though he was there, he wasn’t really. it was really… sad. he was drifting in and out of sleep the entire time
i made small talk with my aunt about koalas at the zoo (i don’t know) and on the way home emily said something along the lines of “it was weird when you guys were talking about koalas. i was staring at all the get well balloons in the corner of the room and thinking who cares about koalas” and really who cares about koalas (but maybe it’s important to pretend to care about koalas sometimes)
my dad took his hand and said once you get your voice back i will bring a guitar and we can harmonize again. he never really liked singing but it’s the one musical thing he might still be able to do now
and he looked at my dad, eyes wide open, most alert he seemed the entire night, and mouthed (slowly) “we. will. sing. a. lot.” and then smiled
that really stuck with me
life is fuckin’ weird
so uh
yeah
appreciate your body everyone it does pretty cool things
(sing a lot)
Post with 8 notes
looking through IM logs and wanting to make them screen plays
“And now it’s light out and I’m thinking about how I’d feel if you died right now. It’d be so terrible I could write a best selling book about it.”
“I had a dream that my psychologist was crying because I had stopped seeing him.”
agh
Post with 17 notes
june
i make a conscious effort not to think in terms of months during the winter. because “january” sounds so far away from warmth. and being so far away from warmth is suffocating. and to acknowledge that every day would be (is) a very depressing reminder. i tried to take out “february” from my mental vocabulary. somehow i managed to take it cold day by cold day by cold day by cold day
until there was april and i began thinking in months again. because i could breathe and because “april” sounded like a reminder that things could sometimes fix themselves.
emily’s dyeing parts of her hair blue, seeing radiohead with me not tomorrow but the next day, and turning 14 on the 14th. part of me wants to say “how is she 14 already?” and the other part of me wants to say “how was she not 14 all those times before?” mostly the latter.
it is june now. june is a word i can say.
Audio post with 12 notes - Played 60 times
there was just a pretty big storm here and everyone on my facebook was talking about how the sky looked right before it started raining and i missed it ‘cause by the time i opened my blinds it was already pouring
and then somehow it turned into this song about something completely different based off the sentence “i missed the sky”
i think i’m putting this here to remind myself to finish it to the point where it makes some sort of sense because i kind of like it and i haven’t written a song thing in uh two years or something crazy like that
yes
Post with 4 notes
the last dream in my journal
(first i was in a bus for hundreds of miles going north, trying to escape these people attacking us and then…)
i was staying inside of tiny house with lots of big windows as the world ended. the house was crowded, filled with what might have been some of the last living people on earth. we were under attack but i don’t know who/what was attacking us. all i know is that it was causing explosions and floods and there were a bunch of tall glass buildings along major highways all over the world that were made specifically for burning dead bodies in and they were talking about the glass buildings on the news.
every time a giant wave would flood over the house, or every time we’d see an explosion in the distance through the big windows, everyone in the house was trained to start singing a happy song together to keep our minds off of it. i remember seeing dirty water rushing over the house and thinking we could have drowned any second if the house collapsed but i had to keep singing this happy tune, and if anyone cried in fear, we would sing louder and force them to stop because we weren’t allowed to be negative during our last moments alive.
a celebrity was in the house with us and i do not remember who it was, only that they were famous, but i remember saying “don’t you miss when meeting celebrities was exciting because they were different than the rest of us? now everyone is the same terrified and helpless person and a celebrity is no different than the average hopeless person.”
it was one of those sentences you think are really cool and deep and meaningful during the dream but then you wake up and think “wait huh”
Photo with 6 notes
i wrote on the last page of this today. hundreds of pages of sleeping stories. (Taken with instagram)
Post with 5 notes
last night i dreamt i was staying in this pretty little island-y town by the beach, and everyone there lived in an apartment made out of something that looked like and could have and might as well have been bamboo. they all had balconies on top of their apartments overlooking the ocean and from the bottom of their balconies they hung hammocks and there were always old men napping in them, not creepy old men, just old, tired and old. the sand of the beach was green, but not a gross shade of green, more like a mint green (it felt clean) and the ocean was bright neon blue even at night, it was always bright, and there were giant black rocks placed in what seemed like random spots throughout the town and people would lie on them to get suntans. in the distance you could see mountains but they looked more like skyscrapers because of their shape but there were no windows and there was no city and everyone called them mountains. everyone had feathers in their hair and everyone had a bike and everyone used their bike and i don’t remember seeing a single car or even a pair of shoes for that matter. from a distance it seemed to be the perfect little peaceful town but they still had their little wars. they were always having little wars, stealing bikes, fighting over who got the rights to tanning on the biggest rock on the great mint green beach, occasionally wandering too close to the skyscraper mountains which was against the town rules. tiny, tiny wars. at night they would try to make peace, sometimes with a show of fireworks and i suppose it helped. everyone would step out of their bamboo apartment into the streets, onto the rocks, and onto their balconies, and they’d be looking up at the sky in awe at these loud pastel colors exploding in the sky. every night was a celebration of some sort. they’d smile at the beauty. i had a camera on me and i was capturing a bunch of pictures i wish could have been real. one little boy, no older than ten, had to be forced outside the night of the fireworks. he wanted to stay inside and watch his tv, but his mother wouldn’t let him, so he dragged the tv outside with him, but it would not work outside. it only showed static. out of spite, the little boy sat down by the tv anyway and watched the static as the rest of the town looked up at the fireworks. his arms were crossed in anger and his eyes were glued to the static-filled screen, the sky around him was full of pink fireworks and right then i took a picture of the boy and i was so disappointed i could not have that picture when i woke up.
Link reblogged from the ocean of consciousness with 11 notes
. →
it’s one of those songs that can bring out a genuine smile because it really helps you appreciate the beauty of it all, literally everything, but at the same it time it tugs at your heart in the saddest way, and makes it so that all you can do is reach your desperate hand out for the invisible person next to you to grasp onto. and then you wonder why, in this moment, why you aren’t sharing this beauty with a single soul besides yourself. and you are smiling and your eyes are sad and everything conflicts with everything else but everything is real. and although you are longing for so much more, you could not ask for anything else. and once the song ends, you realize that is why your eyes are sad. because you could not ask for anything else. and you do not ask for anything else.
hey, aubrey
this is what you need:
-to listen to more of those songs
-to ask for something else
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