It was enchanting to meet you.

16 Cali Youtube love adventure
Ashley Wylde



Disillusions Track of The Day!

Day 2: Screaming

No, you do not have to be nice. You do not have to be nice. You do not have to let go of what you believe in to placate someone who violates you. No one is entitled to undermine you, your beliefs, your values, your desires, your well being, your self, and you do not have to be nice about it. Say no. Practice saying no. Practice saying the truth and when the question is an attack and your truth is no, then scream from the top of your proverbial lungs even if all that squeaks out of your vocal chords is a subdued, “I’d rather not.” I’d rather not is a step on the way to no, and no is a step on the way to growth. You are not a step, you are not a means, you are an end. You can say no! You can say: no! God, no! Fuck no! Never! No, no, no, that does not work for me, I want nothing to do with that, how fucking dare you, don’t ask me again, for the last time, NO! You do not have to be nice about your no if the niceties have been abandoned to form the offer. No is yours. No is your power. No is your freedom. No is your right; so write it. Write that scathing poem about the best friend who never took her eyes off the love your life. Write that song that howls “you’re worthless,” “don’t call me,” “what you did will never be okay,” “I don’t forgive you,” “your apology means shit,” “you hurt me.” Don’t water down your anger to benefit those who never held your feelings close. Break things. Break things! Scream.

"You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories."

Tell your stories. Don’t lie to save face, or hide the truth to protect them, don’t sell your self worth for the price of one ticket for the easy ride… this ride is not easy. Write the letter that ends the friendship that never reached out when you were drowning. Make the call that leaves your tongue tasting bitter, your worth is bigger, your self is bigger, your happiness is so much bigger. So don’t sit on it. Don’t hold on to it. Don’t keep it in bottles or jars on your shelf, because these parts of your story are real, and no, you do not have to be nice. You do not have to be nice. Write the poem. Write the poem and take it to the rooftop and scream it until your lips are aching or your fingers are numb and tell everyone who will listen, because you don’t have to take responsibility for the way you’ve been wronged. Tell your stories. Tell them true.

"If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better."

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Ashley Wylde

—Of Poison


Disillusions Track of The Day!

Day 4: Of Poison

The day your breath first left your lips like sonar and didn’t echo back, was it the hurt, or the fire that came first? To bleed is human but to poison is corruption and wiping your fingerprints from the bottle is deceit. Did it help you get to sleep? Were you able to lie to yourself? Does the shelter of nobility make you feel powerful? Do you swallow your power with cream, or does bitterness suit you? When you lie awake at night and look back on your actions do you see only in white, or are your downfalls visible? Is your black lash visceral?

I wish I could dissect you. I’d kill to see with my eyes the construction that facilitates the psychology of the victimized in their own minds. I hurt you, and I’m sorry. You blame me. Are your hands clean?

The day your words took stabs, I thought we were fencing. Did you cover up your eyes to hide the blood thirst? I wrapped my understanding around you like a blanket because you made me do this naked, and I know what it feels like to be cold. Was my love for you a weakness? Did you need to make me pay? Did you need to see me hurting? Did you think it would make me stay? Did you learn your heart had a black spot? Did you feel like breaking bone? Did you cut to watch me suffer? Did you need to hear this poem?

I never whimpered. I never made you listen my pain. I never stood on your doorstep and told you in half breaths how close I have come to insane. In silence, I have protected you. In vengeance, you’ve weighed me down. I stood in your place and I did not forsake you. I wish you could be saying that now.

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We Are Vast


There is a girl sitting on the stairs and she has freckles, and wears her hair just so, and every breath is a perfume I would die to enjoy… but our lips will not meet softly and hold… because we are ten and I am not a boy.

There is a pretty girl in the front row, and she keeps her…

(Source: everydaygay)

The Least of What She Is


She is bright-eyed and brilliant
She is a beacon
a landmine
a catch
She’s witty and interesting
and breath taking
and all she wants
is to be pretty

She is bright-eyed and beautiful
All her wispy ends are running wild
She is talented
and wholesome
and disciplined



Between the walls of most hearts there is affection: love and the need to be loved. Hers can be found between her vertebrae. Between her toes and behind her ears and between the skin on her palms and the weight they carry through the day. She is love, and though frequently tormented by it, longs…



If I’m extra sarcastic with you it probably means I’m flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can’t handle your shit

Have fun figuring out which

(via thecolorinhereyes)