♢┊ atlas hands

[tired, yikes]

▷║ ❛ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ  ʙ ᴇ ɢ ɪ ɴ ɴ ɪ ɴ ɢ . . .

My name is Meiyu and I am a highschool student residing in the United States. My name is Chinese and is pronounced "May" and "You" It means "beautiful jade" in Mandarin.

This journal will be a plethora of online ranting, posting songs, quotes, poetry and other forms of art that inspire, and frequent swearing. Below are a few more facts about me for the curious.

×║ Fourteen years of age
×║ Female, she/her
×║ INTJ, introversion, intuition, thinking, judgment
×║ Residing in The United States
×║ Born in China
×║ Atheist

❛ but when the stars are the only thing we share, will you still be there?

[tired, yikes]

▷║ ❛ ᴅ ɪ ʀ ᴇ ᴄ ᴛ ᴏ ʀ ʏ . . .

━ updates (currently reading, writing, listening, etc) (view spoiler)[updates (hide spoiler)]
━ inquiries (rules, notices) (view spoiler)[here (hide spoiler)]
━ social + links (social media, other links) (view spoiler)[here (hide spoiler)]

━ journal entries (daily life of mei) (view spoiler)[entry one (hide spoiler)]
━ musical musings (obsessing over music, lyrics, etc) (view spoiler)[1 (hide spoiler)]
━ sad rambles (being sad and depressing) (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]
━ breathe words (writings, poems i like) (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]
━ daring whispers (writing from my scattered thoughts) (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]


to be added on as time passes

❛ the water is deeper than anything you've ever seen
jump in and swim until you're free

[tired, yikes]

▷║ ❛ ɪ ɴ ϙ ᴜ ɪ ʀ ɪ ᴇ s . . .

━ excessive swearing, angst and bullshit

━ will use trigger warnings when necessary

━ please do not comment here, comments will be deleted

━ comments go here

━ judge me all you want and see if i give a shit

━ homophobic, racial, sexist, and other dick comments are not tolerated

━ writings and graphics are legally my creations, plagiarism will result in me fucking hunting you down and fucking with you until you stop being an asshat

━ message me if you have any questions

❛ i've got a plan, i've got an atlas in my hands

[tired, yikes]

▷║ ❛ s ᴏ ᴄ ɪ ᴀ ʟ ﹢ ʟ ɪ ɴ ᴋ s . . .

━ tumblr ; multifandom, aesthetic, side blog
  × thewraaith

━ instagram ; personal
  × monsters_and_meiyu

━ pinterest ; for graphics and edits + aesthetic
  × exhale stars

━ snapchat ; for sending ugly pictures of myself
  × nightmare.ocean

━ spotify ; for listening to good music and crying angst
  × nightmare_ocean

━ graphics and designs ; edits i have made, can also be found on my tumblr
  × displayed on goodreads, here

❛ and i spent evenings pulling stars out of the sky

[tired, yikes]

▷║ ❛ ᴜ ᴘ ᴅ ᴀ ᴛ ᴇ s . . .

━ currently reading:
  × hole in my life, jack gantos
  × foxhole court, nora sakavic
  × ruin and rising, leigh bardugo
  × stars above, marissa meyer
  × song of achilles, madeline miller
  × rereading the raven boys, maggie stiefvater

━ generally listening to:
  × acoustic and sad music

━ currently doing:
  × crying tears of angst, tumblr, talking to bruhs, suffering from school

━ currently watching:
  × the 100, season 3 as it airs on tv
  × shadowhunters, season 1 as it airs on tv
  × young justice, season 1, rewatching on netflix

━ current favorite books:
  × six of crows, leigh bardugo

━ current favorite songs:
  × atlas hands, benjamin francis leftwich
  × the muse, radical face
  × baptisms, radical face
  × broadripple is burning, margot and the nuclear so so's

━ current favorite artists:
  × radical face

━ updates on journal:
  × created 2/22

[tired, yikes]

▷║ ❛ ʙ ʀ ᴇ ᴀ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ  ᴡ ᴏ ʀ ᴅ s . . .

but must it always be a tragedy?
maybe suns are meant to love
boys who fall into seas.

— dear poets, it’s time to rewrite icarus | p.d (via lostcap)

[tired, yikes]

He was a boy with bronze skin
Destined for museums, and places
Of worship.
People pray on his words, look up to his
marble skin and smile.
They have never seen such beauty in one boy
before. And they might never again.
But he was a temple of his own.
He had loves.
He had fears.
He had sadness in his heart the likes of which
you have never felt.
He aches, he pines, he perishes
For a love he cannot touch with bare hands
Pure fingers, skin on skin.
He must look up on her as if she were a statue.
The colour of the sky, cloudless and endless.
The kind his closed off heart,
can only dream of.

— c.e ‘The Southern Honeyed Boy’ (via chloejwrites)

[tired, yikes]

And yet I swear
I love this earth
that scars and scalds,
that burns my feet.

And even hell is holy.

— Gregory Orr, from “Tin Cup,” in The Caged Owl: New and Selected Poems

[tired, yikes]

you have married an icarus
he has flown too close to the sun.

[tired, yikes]

and you’ll believe at first that things like her were only meant to live on sunlit days,
seawater soaked skin and scars held together with fishing line.

she’ll love you, but not in the way you wish,
for she won’t fall for stardust when there are rivers to hold
and suns never meant to set.

— i'll ask the rivers to teach me to be kind | m.m (via okayodysseus)

[tired, yikes]

Then dearest child mournest thou only for Jupiter? / Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars?

— walt whitman, on the beach at night

[tired, yikes]

In the darkness
making love to melancholy
Darling,
have you met your nightmares?

— they keep calling you unholy | a.s (via blackthorny)

[tired, yikes]

I.
You, with the skin made of
ragged twilight:
uneven shades of black and
purple and blue -
one day, the stars will
claim you, and you
will set alight forgotten kingdoms;
you will be greater
than kings and queens.

II.
You, with the bloody lips,
screaming I lie, I lie
with every fractured smile -
one day, a boy will give you
all his dreams and
kiss you on the mouth;
he’ll taste like leather,
and truth and dirty words,
and your story will be
a crooked fairytale.

III.
You, with the glass planes and fine lines
cracking at the gentlest touch -
one day, you will be made
of stronger stuff
than your father’s white knuckles,
and sharp-edged hatred;
you will rise from dust and ash,
and the world will love you
and fear you and bow down to you.

IV.
You, with the magic sleeping lightly
in your veins -
one day, your reluctant home will
crumble before your eyes,
and mountains will be
torn off their feet,
and you will try to save
every one you have ever loved.

but you can’t save everyone, Adam.

— the magician | n.i (via univcrse)

[tired, yikes]

tasks to complete on march 6, 2016

concerning school:

× essay, revise and print
× check it online first, paper rater
. submit online

× check blackboard for other english assignments?
× work on mythology project
. find one online source

× study science
. find powerpoint

× complete math packet

× finish mandarin homework

× check grades online

recreational tasks

× find update tabs for side blog
× start a navi page for side blog?
× make an about me page for side blog?
× get to 200 followers
. follow more blogs (small blogs?)
. find more blogrates

× make another tumblr account

× finish some edits for blue week
× finish silver trio edit
× shadowhunters, tmi, tid tda edit? (tag it under network)

× queue more posts (up to 50?)

× find a theme for main blog
× keep/change psychiqs? (keep)
× get updates tab and navi too
× follow aes and poetry blogs

[tired, yikes]

this is the way the world ends.
soft touches and bright eyes and hands held up
for just one touch just one touch just one

this is the way the world ends.
empty yogurt cups and wet fruit down a throat and this is the closest they will ever get to a kiss the closest we will ever get to a kiss this is the closest

this is the way the world ends.
late night calls and twirling the telephone cord around your finger and voices low and rough scraping against the remnants of your self control and you wonder exactly what you would do if this distance did not stand between you wonder you wonder you

this is the way the world ends.
tarot cards with black painted images and prophecies of long past and a chicken scratch name on yellow white paper and the feeling that this has always been and yet has never been and that it is all ending too quickly for you to

this is the way the world ends.
a soon to be dead king and his hollow queen and the lost, forgotten kingdom that they rule over, a valley of fairy lights on the country side, a broken thumb and a fist that holds it, a twilit kingdom of empty kisses and the lips that

this is the way the world ends.
between the kiss,
and the death,
the desire,
and the lack of anything at all,
falls the shadow
for we are the kingdom.

— the dead king and his hollow queen (v.r) | via tumblr

[tired, yikes]

characters in your own epics,
gods of your own colliding worlds,
you and your love stood
against plague and betrayal and tragedy.
but he was never meant to live
beyond the final page of his legend.

(“name one hero who was happy.” // “you can’t.”)

you feared you would have to watch him die;
in a way, you were right to believe that.
but in a way, you were wrong as well:
your last breath came before his,
yet like an unspoken prayer gone unheard,
you were forced to watch the best of the greeks fall.

(“will i feel his ashes as they fall against mine?”)

that was not the end, though, of your woe.
while he was led with a hero’s welcome to the underworld,
you were made to wander and wait by his tomb
until you were granted the same honor of memory
as your doomed lover.
but you refused to let his legacy be one of murder and cruelty.
you shared the memories that made him yours, and you his;
and in the end, the sea-nymph who scorned you heard,
and granted you mercy.

(“go. he waits for you.”)

— hero will never be synonymous with happy (t.y) | via pansexualwill

[tired, yikes]

but is it not a sort of genius to cut always to the heart?

[tired, yikes]

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.

[tired, yikes]

and like all lovers and sad people, i am a poet.

[tired, yikes]

first thought, best thought.

[tired, yikes]

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of the night.

howl, allen ginsberg

[tired, yikes]

It isn't enough for your heart to break because everybody's heart is broken now.

[tired, yikes]

I never dreamed the sea so deep,
The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.

[tired, yikes]

with dreams, with drugs with waking nightmares.

[tired, yikes]

america, why are your libraries full of tears?

[tired, yikes]

I don't do anything with my life except romanticize and decay with indecision.

[tired, yikes]

This is the one and only
firmament; therefore
it is the absolute world.
There is no other world.
The circle is complete.
I am living in Eternity.
The ways of this world
are the ways of Heaven.

[tired, yikes]

America I've given you all and now I'm nothing
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.

[tired, yikes]

Happiness exists I feel it.
I cried for my soul, I cried for the world's soul.
The world has a beautiful soul.

[tired, yikes]

repeat to yourself that they’re not really gone
time has proven that fooling yourself into believing
a lie is the most effective way to deal with
things you have no control over

keep listening to the mixtapes they made you
overanalyse every single word you hear
“was this a sign that things were going wrong”
no no, you were the one that cared too hard, not them

stay up every single night staring at your phone
either attempting to gather up the courage to
turn these demons, these constant reminders of
your loneliness into nothing more than a bad dream
or praying just for one second you could feel
the warmth of equally returned love

go out for coffee four times a week by yourself
always bring your notebook, never stop writing
leave little comics and thank you notes with your tip
watch them smile as you get in your car

always talk down on yourself whenever possible
my life is shit because i deserve it, right?
you must have done something real bad
its nearly impossible for you to cry now

avoid your friends for weeks even though
they’re the only sense of consistency you have
left in your life, if they really wanted
to see you they’d come, but they won’t (who cares?)

allow yourself to lose interest in the things you love
watch as you begin to take a backseat to the
world around you, don’t fight it
become a secondary character in your own motion picture

but most importantly drown every single one of
your feelings in old stolen rum, learn to
love the taste of it dripping down your throat
find comfort in the warmth coming from your
stomach, you’re drinking bottled love now

you don’t need other people to drive away your loneliness
you just needed to find a way to talk to it

how to never stop being sad, dandelion hands

[tired, yikes]

Let me be the drug
That you use to fall in love
The heroin that keeps you warm enough
Let me sink to your skin
Like water in a wound
Stitch me up when you are done
I want to be the water in your lungs
That let's you know you are drowning
The last sip of gin you can't drink
Let me hide in your neck
With every regret
You're too proud to swallow before you go to bed
And why do I still compare everyone that I love
To the way I loved you?
I can still hear you sing
But you'll never sing for me
My eyes will continue to sink
I wasn't built to exist
These ghost limbs were never taught to swim

You'll always be like a nightmare to me
And I'll always be begging for sleep

blissth, sorority noise

[tired, yikes]

tasks to complete on april 30 + 31, 2016

concerning school:

× do a few pages of final review for math

× read great expectations, ten chapters a day
× review grammar

× science notes

× check grades

concerning tumblr:

× make edits

× finish blogrates

× get queue up

× get to 500 followers

other:

× watch "origins" of miraculous ladybug w/ seeks

× watch kill your darlings, other depressing movies

× rp w/ low (gae, broth)

[tired, yikes]

and you think my bruised knees are sort of pretty
and i think your tired eyes are kind of nice

[tired, yikes]

ARCHIVED ON 5. 11. 16.