The End

I’m alive. And a sorry excuse for a blogger, but that’s not the point. Roll reasons for inactivity:

  • Visiting my family an ocean away from where I live for a month
  • Having a shortened summer break and having to prep for school
  • Spending the final moments before school starts with friends who are going to different schools than me
  • Not wanting to post…

Oops.

I’m going to leave this blog up, unlike the last one. Should it happen to inspire someone, that’s great. I’ll say that maybe I’ll post here again, but I know I probably won’t. I want to thank you all for 218 amazing followers and all the support you’ve given me. This is a lovely community of the kindest people and I’m really sad to leave it.

I am, however, still writing poetry because I’ve forgotten other ways of living at this point. Click on that link to check out my Instagram, @our.vintage.love. Please like, follow, and comment feedback – I’m always trying to improve my writing! (Specifically the piece with the rusty bike as the thumbnail, it’s a really personal piece and I’d really like to get you guys’s thoughts on that).

Thank you for this journey. Thank you for all the love. Thank you for the inspiration.

Love,

Nicole

Yep. My real name is the most basic thing ever, so check out my Insta! 😉

 

 

 

Quote of the Day

“I’m not a one in a million type of girl. I’m a once in a lifetime kind of woman.”

Also, leave it to my mom to ruin a great day. Her daughter graduates from eighth grade, gets four special awards, and she doesn’t have to wake up early to drive to school for two months, but she still finds something I did wrong to punish. I love her. So much.

-Ivy

Death By Society

The day it’s too late is the day she runs into the kitchen shouting:

“Mama, mama, I’m fat!”

And all you can say is:

“Who told you that? They’re wrong.”

But she won’t believe you. She won’t believe you ever again. Because you’re her mother, and you have to tell her she’s beautiful. No matter what the truth is, she won’t believe it.

And so at night you cry for the loss of another little girl.  

Taken from you by magazines and pop culture and television – and never to realize that it’s all fake until long after it matters.

 

All just one reason we live in a world of depression.

Superficially Broken

Why does my heart get broken by people that aren’t even real?

Maybe it’s because I’ll never find anyone like them – because I know the world is too superficial to create someone like that.

Maybe it’s the world that’s broken – not me.