Tess Van Deyk

Being unable to let go is a symptom of self-doubt. Being able to let go is the recovery of a...

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 05:42:23 -0400

Being unable to let go is a symptom of self-doubt.

Being able to let go is the recovery of a stifled spirit.

Dark matter.

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 20:16:58 -0400

Dark matter.

Today is my birthday, so Brian strung up a whole heap of photos...

Sat, 15 Jun 2013 02:10:12 -0400

Today is my birthday, so Brian strung up a whole heap of photos from the past year across the bedroom ceiling. 🌞

oldrecordscheapwine: Someone should make a movie about Bill the pony’s adventures from escaping...

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 10:13:12 -0400

oldrecordscheapwine:

Someone should make a movie about Bill the pony’s adventures from escaping Moria to ending up in Bree.

Photo

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 05:14:15 -0400

Superstitious nonchalance

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 04:54:14 -0400

Just as she’ll find her feet, the world will shift again,

not enough to send her to her knees, but enough

to knock her off balance, and although she’ll remind

herself not to step on cracks, she’ll always forget

to watch the ground, for fear of missing something in

the sky.

By Tess Van Deyk

High highs and low lows.

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 02:56:44 -0400

High highs and low lows.

Rainy daze.

Tue, 11 Jun 2013 22:07:45 -0400

Rainy daze.

[11 June, 2013]

Tue, 11 Jun 2013 04:29:05 -0400

The most frightening movies are the ones in which the villain is a mystery; never seen or truly known.

We are all creatures with an instinct to fear the unknown. As soon as we get to know what we’re up against, it loses its potency.

Emotions are the same. Whether it be fear, grief, anger, pain… Sometimes you’ve just got to sit with it. Sit with it and look it right in the eyes. Get to know it.

Once the unknown is known, it will lose its power over you.

Time to hit the books. Couldn’t ask for better company.

Mon, 10 Jun 2013 09:41:18 -0400

Time to hit the books. Couldn’t ask for better company.

It’s like everything has a life of its own, everything is...

Sat, 08 Jun 2013 02:06:55 -0400

It’s like everything has a life of its own, everything is breathing.

[6 June, 2013]

Thu, 06 Jun 2013 06:40:37 -0400

The ideal relationship, the deepest, most spiritual, most evolved form of love, is reached when people look beyond the boundaries of superficialities.

That includes gender, physical appearance, status, race, age (provided participants are emotionally mature enough to understand such concepts as well as understand one another).

Imagine all of us being blind to the physical attributes of one another, wandering the earth without preconceived ideas of social expectation. We would still fall in love, but it would be love as one soul to another, completely removed of superficial irrelevancies.

A companionship of the deepest connection is one that is devoid of the shackles that are superficialities.

Tea in the garden and meditation to start the day. Night...

Thu, 06 Jun 2013 05:57:44 -0400

Tea in the garden and meditation to start the day. Night terrors, be gone.

This will all be under snow, soon.

Thu, 06 Jun 2013 05:57:30 -0400

This will all be under snow, soon.

If there’s nothing left for you to wonder, you might as...

Tue, 04 Jun 2013 01:19:31 -0400

If there’s nothing left for you to wonder, you might as well be dead.

Scent-triggered nostalgia, idealisation and screen memories.

Mon, 03 Jun 2013 20:57:28 -0400

Scent-triggered nostalgia, idealisation and screen memories.

I’m so ugly, but that’s okay, ‘cause so are you.

Thu, 30 May 2013 00:43:01 -0400

I’m so ugly, but that’s okay, ‘cause so are you.

Sitting in this field of daisies was the best feeling.

Wed, 29 May 2013 03:55:20 -0400

Sitting in this field of daisies was the best feeling.

Second-hand clothes

Tue, 28 May 2013 21:15:00 -0400

He has been talking to them about her; sweet things so sticky his lips barely part and his breath smells like hot maple syrup burning on a stovetop, because his tongue is on fire. He’s burning on the inside. But he doesn’t know he’s burning on the inside.

He thinks he is him, but he isn’t. He is him covered in me.

He quotes my favourite authors and speaks words of wisdom he doesn’t quite taste at all. And everybody loves this version of him, this new and improved version of him, and everybody knows about her. Her with the name that smells like burnt maple syrup on his breath.

He has stolen a part of me and he’s wearing it like new clothes and everyone likes this new look, this new him, but they haven’t even noticed that he’s blinking back my reflection in his eyes, they haven’t noticed because he doesn’t, either. But there are holes being worn in me, and I notice them.

They press their skins together like only creatures do, and their eyes arch into lover’s domes, their smiles are the same, but she’s running her fingers over me. I would shiver in the hottest shower, still, freezing in the steam with a fear of dropping the soap on my foot and shattering into a thousand pieces to be washed down the drain and into the sea.

I could be there, though. But I think that even if I were there, I’d still have holes, and I’d still wonder why my name never smelled like burnt maple syrup on his breath, and I’d still wonder why he wears me, and I’d still wonder why he couldn’t be proud of our love.

By Tess Van Deyk

Photo

Mon, 27 May 2013 07:02:15 -0400