wild-nirvana
I cannot tell,
If the emotion originating in my stomach, The feeling that is radiating from my soul; Is a consequence of you, regardless that your distance is great, with the one word hello, or the tailspin of laughter you send me into.
You’re the master puppeteer.
Is the feeling in the pit of me showing my dear? The fear of your intelligence expressed upon my messages, those messages written without consideration. The fact with every breath you take and word you make, you plaster DANGER across your forehead. For when someone knows how people work, and has the intelligence to combat every argument, every conversation, every breath you’ve taken;
You’ve already lost half the battle. You’ve already lost control.
You’re already hurt.
wild-nirvana
shelbystranger:

I’m on a Jet2 plane, leaving, leaving. You have become my heart’s centre of gravity, a soft point on which my mind can rest. I think of you as the plane thunders on, forcing out poetry as we judder heavily through the spitting grey sky, the pressure changing, pushing, contracting. 
When the pressure is very high and all the air is crushing me I can feel the fraught weight of your anger, your resentment, the times when you won’t even look at me, heavy, heavy, heavy. And when the pressure drops, and my body is expanding and filling like a sponge for light - that’s what it is to look at you. 
That’s what it is to look at you, coming towards me half-hidden under an umbrella; looking up and nodding at me as I enter a room; in the grass, sunlight slanting across your face; your exposed neck next to me on the bus; [sic] laying in bed, beautiful and shadowy in the lamp light. 
I love you

Disclaimer: totally scientifically incorrect, the sensation I describe is linked with g force, not cabin pressure.

shelbystranger:

I’m on a Jet2 plane, leaving, leaving. You have become my heart’s centre of gravity, a soft point on which my mind can rest. I think of you as the plane thunders on, forcing out poetry as we judder heavily through the spitting grey sky, the pressure changing, pushing, contracting.
When the pressure is very high and all the air is crushing me I can feel the fraught weight of your anger, your resentment, the times when you won’t even look at me, heavy, heavy, heavy. And when the pressure drops, and my body is expanding and filling like a sponge for light - that’s what it is to look at you.
That’s what it is to look at you, coming towards me half-hidden under an umbrella; looking up and nodding at me as I enter a room; in the grass, sunlight slanting across your face; your exposed neck next to me on the bus; [sic] laying in bed, beautiful and shadowy in the lamp light.
I love you

Disclaimer: totally scientifically incorrect, the sensation I describe is linked with g force, not cabin pressure.

wild-nirvana
aplaceforart:

What to Pack to Travel The World by wendymacnaughton
A drawing of every item the pioneering journalist Nellie Bly packed in her small leather suitcase to travel around the world in 75 days - in 1889.The drawing was created originally for Brain Pickings article, “How to Pack Like Nellie Bly, Pioneering Journalist” by Maria Popova. Read it here:http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2013/05/02/eighty-days-nellie-bly/

aplaceforart:

What to Pack to Travel The World by wendymacnaughton

A drawing of every item the pioneering journalist Nellie Bly packed in her small leather suitcase to travel around the world in 75 days - in 1889.

The drawing was created originally for Brain Pickings article, “How to Pack Like Nellie Bly, Pioneering Journalist” by Maria Popova. Read it here:
http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2013/05/02/eighty-days-nellie-bly/