3 words, 8 letters, say them and I’m yours.
- Never. Watched. This. Show. (via imaresident)

It turns out that Hollywood has grief and loss all wrong. The waves and spikes don’t arrive predictably in time or severity. It’s not an anniversary that brings the loss to mind, or someone else’s reminiscences, nor being in a restaurant where you once were together. It’s in the grocery aisle passing the romaine lettuce and recalling how your spouse learned to make Caesar salad, with garlic-soaked croutons, because it was the only salad you’d agree to eat. Or when you glance at a rerun in an airport departure lounge and it’s one of the episodes that aired in the midst of a winter afternoon years earlier, an afternoon that you two had passed together. Or on the rise of a full moon, because your wife, from the day you met her, used to quote from The Sheltering Sky about how few you actually see in your entire life. It’s not sobbing, collapsing, moaning grief. It’s phantom-limb pain. It aches, it throbs, there’s nothing there, and yet you never want it to go away.”

-http://nymag.com/news/features/cancer-peter-bach-2014-5/index6.html

This piece hit me really hard today — not only because it reminds me of all the oncology patients I’ve been dealing with in the past year but of you. Your presence still lingers and though I’ve gotten better at hiding and pretending, it never leaves.  

backshelfpoet:

It’s January, the first time you

didn’t kiss me during New Years.

I can live without you,

I can live without you,

I can live without you.

It’s February and I

really should stop screaming

your name in other peoples’ beds,

should figure out how to shape their name

from the shipwreck of…

For everyone in my American Healthcare course who claim that costs and Medicare reimbursements are too high. Look past the numbers, especially when thrown around during media hype.

It’s raining tonight…

I stepped out of the gym and stood by the floor-length glass windows to watch the rain sparkle as it hit the ground. It’s late so no one else was around. The silvery pavement glittered in the dim lights from the windows and the world was enveloped in silence. I let the silence surround me and I realized that this moment and time would be perfect to reenact that scene from the Notebook. I never liked the movie, but every guy seems to know the reference. I rushed back and asked him if he wanted to cross an item off the list, but he gave me a confused look instead. Then I remembered that it was you who wrote on that small piece of paper: kissing in the rain, like that scene in the Notebook. Tonight, I miss you.

I put away your memories today.

Read More

whatisbestforgotten:

itsjustoutsidemywindow:

bigdaddypimpppppp:

impactings:

15 texts i never sent

This made me cry

the last one made me lose it. I have so many tears running down my face

Literally sobbing reading these

(Source: impactings, via wishtly)

langleav:

New poem, hope you likey xo Lang 
…………….
New book Love & Misadventure by Lang Leav now back in stock on Amazon + The Book Depositoryfor FREE worldwide shipping.

Also in major bookstores including Barnes & Noble, Kinokuniya, Fully Booked, National Book Store, Books Actually, MPH, Periplus, Waterstones, Indigo/Chapters + more. 

langleav:

New poem, hope you likey xo Lang 

…………….

New book Love & Misadventure by Lang Leav now back in stock on Amazon + The Book Depositoryfor FREE worldwide shipping.

Also in major bookstores including Barnes & Noble, Kinokuniya, Fully Booked, National Book Store, Books Actually, MPH, Periplus, Waterstones, Indigo/Chapters + more. 

(via wishtly)

ladidaboo:

phtocrdt_ shiba inu

(via wishtly)

diarymdstudent:

"Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.. Hospital window.

Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and colour of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every colour and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene. One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man could not hear the band – he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days, weeks and months passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, ‘Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.’

Epilogue:

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can’t buy.

‘Today is a gift, that is why it is called The Present.’

The origin of this letter is unknown.”

(via medicalelephant)

© 2010 Endless Story / Powered by Tumblr
Theme by Michiko. This theme was created inspired by Rubber Cement, Sunrise and BlueDots.