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MAGNUM’S NEW COMMERCIAL VIDEO. I AM CRYING SO ARE YOU
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It’s Jupiter
you can tell a lot about someone based on their phone background. it shows what’s most important to them
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me: *scares myself to the point where I can’t even function because of the anxiety I have created over a situation*
the situation: *works out fine*
me: oh
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I'll write another letter that I'll certainly never send -
To you, my love. Our distance is our saving grace. I'm sure if you were here with me you'd drive me crazy. I don't have the patience for brooding silences and snippy replies, the beauty in your personality outshines the grating reality of your flaws. I'll always love you for who I want you to be.
To you, my heartbreak. You're with me still, but less each day. I'm almost sorry to feel the cracks in my heart stitching up, your name faded beneath scar tissue and failing to seep through my veins. You hurt, but god, what a rush. I'll have to learn how to write without you again.
To you, my repeated introduction. You're dozens of greetings and stupid, unpronounceable names. You're the mishmash of recycled ideas thrown into a burning dryer and left to melt together. Tell me again how you're different, give me another assortment of hybrid concepts and wait for one to take root in my psyche. If there were any less of you, you'd mean nothing to me.
To you, my friend. You're here today and gone tomorrow, back in a fortnight to depart in a month. Your whims are unpredictable but your words are enchanting. I wish you were something I could chain down and keep selfishly to myself, but there's something so hypnotic in the way you walk away.
To me, myself - Enough.
Seriously, enough.
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The past will weigh you down. It will take your moments of confidence, the little spark that ignites in your chest when you accomplish greatness, and destroy them. It will keep your eyes from closing late at night, plaguing you with memories of humiliation and heartache.
The past will lift you up. It will make you smile in a crowded bus, remembering a soft kiss from perfect lips as snow drifted from the heavens. It will take your moments of fear and disguise them, hide them from your mind as you step front and center stage to take your place among the stars.
The past can define you, it can own you. It can ruin you, or it can strengthen you. It can teach you and show you a better way. The past is what you remember and compare, it’s what you’ve experienced and dreamed and seen and felt and wondered that maybe, you were destined to be here. You were destined to be this way.
When you came into this world, you were a blank canvas. You were given your mother’s eyes and your father’s wit. You became a unique work of art, created entirely of your own life. You are the scars on your arms that show you got stronger, you are the dark purple bruises under your skin that prove you can win. You are a fracture in your bone, a cast on your wrist, a crooked half-smile that you mirrored from the first soul that ever made you feel you were worth more than just the breakfast and dinner it took to keep you alive until today.
You can choose to be inspired by your past, or you can be ruined by it. You can see the darkness and submit, or you can pull out the matches to illuminate the truth. You can be the angel or the demon. You can be trying your hardest, to prove you can make the positive changes you believe should be seen - and still remain cast in the role of the villain. You can do nothing at all and be raised up on a pedestal, unexpected worshipers and a bible with your name scrawled across the cover.
There will be poison and lies, but there will also be truth. There will be friends who stand by you, even when you feel alone. There might be a long night, a darkest hour, an eternal agony, but there will always be hope.
You’ll be okay, love. You are every ounce of paint and tears and smiles, a rainbow kaleidoscope of experiences and heartbreak and golden moments. You are perfectly, flawlessly unique and absolutely irreplaceable. Every moment of darkness is inviting you to the light, proving that the worst things that happen to you are just the background shades of accents and shadows that illuminate your brighter days, your shining achievements.
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I'm here to be myself.
Wholly, entirely and with every broken piece or fractured line across my heart. I am solitary, individual and unique and nobody could ever take that from me.
There is no gun to my head that could compromise my integrity, there is no pill you can force past my lips that will change who I have always been.
I'm alone and there's so much strength in that. I know my limits, I know when to push them and when to respect them. I know where I'll fall and where I'll stand tall. I know my own heart, what makes it start and stop, what it wants and what it will never yearn for on even the fullest moon.
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I wanted to write a eulogy for you, to tell the world what you meant to me.
I started, words coming fast but fleeting, each one failing to grasp the depth of my adoration for you. How could I ever explain the way you looked with the blue sky behind you, your eyes the same shade and shining just as bright as the sunlight spilling across your youthful features. Nobody knew how much I could love you. I didn't even know, not until I had lost you.
The first time we met it was soft and sweet, tentative and careful. You were so shy, cheekbones blushing every shade of rose and fingertips fluttering across the table. Your coffee went cold as you smiled and laughed and I fell in love with every moment, the crinkles beside your eyes and the way your lips curved.
How did I ever think that I could be enough? You were a story written in the stars, there were galaxies born when you cried and every tear gave life to new world. My angel, my love, I learned to live for your smile. I was with you for every twisted ankle, every fall. Each hospital visit a little scarier than the last until we didn't make it, a train overturned on the tracks and an ambulance on the wrong side, pouring rain and your quiet voice -
"I love you. Be safe."
The last time we met, it was really just me. Your eyes didn't crinkle and you didn't smile, I never got to see the blue of your eyes against a summer sky again. The bottom half of the casket was closed and I couldn't bring myself to ask your mother if she let you wear those ratty converse you loved so much. I didn't speak at the podium, I didn't cry at the worn verses in the little green bibles they handed out. I couldn't help but think that you would have been bored at your own funeral, listening to relatives you saw at Christmas try and remember a time when you weren't a wildfire.
Your aunt Carol called you an angel. She was the only one that wasn't wrong.
I wanted to write a eulogy for you, and maybe one day I will. I'll keep trying, a few paragraphs at a time, to summarize a lifetime.
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Get the fuck up.
You're better than this. Don't just lay there, crumpled and filthy and weeping. Hitting rock bottom isn't an excuse, it's an opportunity. This is a foundation for something new, so clean yourself up and move the hell forward.
You're royalty in rags, the blood that pumps through your veins is golden, the stars in your eyes indicative of the galaxies that swirl within you. Every little scrape and scar and bruise is a reminder of the life you've lived, not just survived. Your success rate for enduring each day is a hundred percent, and there's no reason to tarnish that now
Every experience is a lesson, a memory, a weapon. You're armed to the teeth and the only thing holding you back is believing that you're not worth every ounce of potential that the universe intended for you. You're magnificent, irreplaceable, unstoppable.
The world doesn't just happen to you. Stop being afraid of what goes bump in the night and become the one that is to be feared when the lights go out and the sun goes down.
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Mind Your Language
I don't love English the way I used to.
It's an empty heartbreak, I'm watching lightning without hearing thunder and crunching my teeth into ice without feeling cold.
This language is so much less than I need, a struggle to pick and choose the perfect words and turn of phrase in an empty appeal to the eyes of a stranger. I never know what will make you feel.
There is nothing to idolize in a writer who knows only their language. When you can only speak and write what you were born into, there are worlds of understanding and knowledge that will remain dead and unexperienced.
I have lost my love for English into this void, this revelation that I know so little, I am so much less than I could be. I do not have the words I need because I did not take the time to learn them.
Where do I even.. begin?
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Inevitable
Grief and.. loss
This feeling isn't just a feeling, it's overwhelming. It's drowning and soundless screaming and desolate, horrific loneliness. Helpless and paralyzed with guilt tearing at the sinews of your muscle and your weak, fluttering heart.
Someone will try to tell you that this feeling will somehow fade. How will something so painful, exhausting, entirely consuming ever possibly become anything less? Try to remember a time of loss that you survived and nothing in hindsight can compare to where you are right now.
My angel, my only. I'll go over your texts again and again until I know them by heart and they still seem so inadequate. Did you know that I love you? You are so important, to me, to the world. This world is a darker place, this world means nothing without you. I don't know how to be without you. My thoughts are scattered and my eyes are burning from so many tears that I can't cry anymore, even though my soul is weeping and aching and screaming your name.
I don't understand. I don't know how it could be that you aren't still with me today. I can't eat, I can't sleep, you're in every breath and every moment. I can't drink a glass of water without feeling in every guilt-poisoned taste that you will never be thirsty again. You will never be hungry again.
What was your favorite food? How much did I never learn about you? I'm lost in this, saving every picture and text and note because I never knew that the time we had was limited. I don't know how to carry the weight of this. I don't know how to live without you, how to survive in your absence. I can't breathe anymore.
It's not fair. It's not fair that anyone should have to lose someone as incredible, as wonderful as you. Why am I alive? I did nothing to deserve this, my broken heart still beating. Why you? Why not me? Why not anyone else.. I'd pass this pain off to a stranger just to hear you laugh again.
I can't stop, I can't start, I can't live. I can't miss you more, I can't deserve life any less. I can't wake up from this living nightmare. Where are you?
Please let this be a dream.
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Haunted
The problem with my dreams and my desires and the way my heart aches to hear your name is that you're not the same person I fell in love with.
Somewhere along this long and twisted path, you became a someone new. It's no fault of yours or mine, character development happens to more than just my favorite villains but I didn't expect to have my mind in the moment and my heart in the past.
I wish we could go back but I know I wasn't happy there, I've built up my memories with sugar and frosting and a soft white light - it seems so beautiful then, did I really feel loved? Did I really feel like I belonged?
I made it all up, a romantic entanglement that's no more than a faulty fallacy. I'll throw my heart at so many more people until it sticks, one more shot and another bruise to remind myself to let go of you.
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Solitude, Breeding Strength
I'm alone in this world, and I always will be. Standing, waiting, watching as lives flicker into existence and burn bright for a moment until fading away. I am in darkness, eternal.
Curse me out and string me up, list off my crimes as unforgivable and turn away from the light in my eyes. I did this to protect you, I did this because I love you. Ask me again what I'll do for you, and I know that I'll do it twice. I'll replay this life and I won't change a thing because what I did to save you, to protect you, because I love you - I don't regret what I've done for you.
I'm alone in this world, and I always will be. Watching friendships die, hearing the railing screech of a tormented soul who can't see beyond the veil of anger to the purpose underneath. You can love someone more than you can feel anything else, and still lose them. You can do anything for her, and lose her.
Snap, break. You're a branch on the forest floor in pieces and she'll walk away, because the sharp pain to slow her down only moved her closer to a crippling inconvenience. Too busy looking back at you to see the danger ahead, what more could you do?
Take it in stride. Everyone will come and go so quickly it's hard to recall if they were ever there at all. No one is permanent, no one will fight for you. You're alone, just like me. Let your best intentions lead you to hell.
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Picturesque Tragedy
It starts raining and all you can feel is a smug satisfaction, "Good."
Because misery loves company and you're downright tragic, teary-eyed and holed up at home with blankets and sodden tissues wondering why life is so hard for just you - resenting anyone who reminds you that it's hard for other people, too.
You want to know what you've done to tip the karmic scales to your disfavour, there must be a mistake because you're A Good Person and bad things aren't supposed to happen to you, not like this.
It's raining, you're crying and you wish someone was there to bear witness to how sad everything really is, the poignant perfection of being perfectly desolate. There should really be a TV crew, another tear rolls down your reddened cheek on point and you might have missed a career in acting.
The sun will likely come up tomorrow, but tonight is your night to be as unhappy as you'd like to be. Indulge in your emotional expression, embrace the vibrant spectrum of everything that you can feel. This isn't any more or less valid than joy or fury, you have every right to feel this way and you're welcome to experience as much of it as you damn well please.
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A Tangled Misexpression
I have something to say, I just know it.
I don't know it. I have no idea. But I'm here, I exist, I'm taking up space and burning through last night's leftovers. I'm struggling, but I'm alive.
My heartbeat is heavy and slow, my lungs are trembling under my ribs and shaking with every exhale. Tonight is the worst night, just like the last. Tomorrow will be the worst night, just like tonight.
I'm caught up in loving someone who doesn't look twice, I've romanticized the concept of strangers and love at first sight. I'd sing ballads for Jupiter and disregard the moon for fear of repetition.
I feel - sad. My fingers are empty and I need to know, where do I thrive? I'm going through the motions and I don't know what matters anymore. We have friends and time and food and each moment drags on sluggishly, each forkful of pasta and shared laughter seems like I'm choking.
I'll speak when I cannot write and fill my silence with loathing, I resent the moments I cannot take up the space I deserve. I'm a void of myself, a space where I should have been. I'm sentient and aware of sensation, but it doesn't give me right to live.
I don't belong here, or there. I don't deserve you, or this. There's a weight in the world and it's settling on me, I don't know if I'll be able to stand up again. Rake my fingernails down the walls as I crumple, one last inconvenience for the contractor that has to repair water damage from scarlet mistakes.
Fix me up. Mint me and mark me, steal me and know I'll never be yours. I can't belong.
I have something to say, I just -
This is nothing like what I meant to be.
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The End of the Tunnel
I know that I'm strong enough, I know that I'll be fine. I know the pain will subside and I will gain the strength to bear what's left. The iron will cool and a light at the end of this tunnel will flicker on and guide me, but that doesn't help me now.
I wake up and in a moment I'm fine, reality trickling the way cold water will overflow slowly at first before the chilling cascade. In another moment, I'm breathless. It seems like so much, too much for one person, and I'm not even carrying the weight of it all.
I know that I'll be fine, but in this moment it's overwhelming and I'm crushed, half-suffocated. Standing up seems impossible, moving forward is even more unlikely. I know that I'm strong enough, but this is so much bigger than me - how can I carry it all?
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An Overwhelming Exasperation
I could absolutely drown myself in the words that I know, the subtle nuance of expression that dances behind the stars and lingers after a stolen kiss. I'm filled to the brim with so much to say and so many ways to, it's a wonder that I don't overflow.
I'm trapped inside myself, my fingers settling at the keys as if another drummed circle of frustration will break open the dam of imperfection and finally set me free. I have a heart that beats and a soul that sings but ask me to believe for a moment that I could be anything more and - silence.
There are galaxies inside me, sensations I can't describe and I'm left here with the bitter aftertaste of failure. Pick and choose concepts like apples in an orchard, wash and trim and spice and bake and wonder why I'm left with the same basic flavour when I burn for so much more.
This is nothing like what I meant to say, this isn't what I want you to hear. Shake it up and settle down, try again just to fail again and wonder when my mind gave up on thinking something new. Circles upon circles and I'm left with a half-finished eulogy and one way out.
I think they'd miss me if I was gone, but I wouldn't miss this world. Tears would smudge carefully corrected mascara, black grains of missed flaws that trail down reddened cheeks and mark another heart broken. I will be the slosh of guilt in your abdomen, the pang of betrayal in your chest, the splitting pain in your skull.
You'll just be my rattle of pills, the options endless as I toy between a rope and a blade and a lump of lead that looks so nonchalant on the table, in the wall and outlined with what's left of who we could have been. Seek and find the passion to do anything, to live or die and make up my mind.
Put it off for another night, endure the crack of dawn and the endless cacophony of birdsong. Wake up and wait for a reason to wake up again, dream of worlds where words don't lodge in my throat and tremble in my hands. 
One day you'll hear what I have to say, someday I'll be able to say it.
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