She is the one who can redeem you. See her
there, standing next to the punch bowl,
with her hair pulled tight. Watch her stare
with narrowed eyes, see how she draws her lips thin.
Your world lies deep beneath her contempt.
But give her wine and the wilderness, give her
open space and the free air, and watch her fill
with the spirit of the wood. She will ignite
like the silent explosion of a remote star. See her
eyes glow, her hair float loose like visible wind.
Listen to her voice rise in the sharp darkness.
It takes the hand of a god to form such rough beauty.
What will you give her? What could you offer?
She wants the joy of the blood and the raw red flesh.
She will tear through Pentheus, through Orpheus,
through all of us. The blood of all our fathers
drips from her bared teeth. But you must try
to kiss her, to touch her full red lips. Try to hold
what trembles through her. Try to make yourself real.
Clasp her hand and join this dark worship.
Listen to the night air in the trees, the rasp of her holy
breath, the movement of blood through your veins.
Let it happen. Let there be life and death.

"The Maenads" by Dan Albergotti (via blueskiessunshine)

I have to sing a duet with my ex-boyfriend at a wedding. 

It’s a song blatantly about getting married.

My life is only getting better. :)

flatsound:

lately i’ve been waking up
with a feeling in my stomach
that says, “you’re not broken
anymore”.

it doesn’t last the day
but it’s a start.

The best part of graduating is that I’ll never, ever have to see you again. I can’t wait.