(Source: 0rbiting, via perfection-wont-wait)

12:13 am  •  7 May 2012  •  29,787 notes

      We were driving down the highway in his black, four door, F150, and it was bright outside, and we had just been out job hunting. “Unwritten” by Natasha Ben-whatever was playing, and we were singing along, when I glanced over my shoulder from the passenger seat over at the driver, a beautiful blonde haired boy whose very existence had most recently turned my world upside down and left it in shambles.
        He smiled his cheeky smile behind his sunglasses and continued to sind along, interpretive dancing as much as he could behind his steering wheel. I looked out the window above his head, gazing into the clear blue abyss that was the sky, not a cloud in sight. It was in that moment of singing and blonde boys and clear skies that I realized, I’m going to be okay.
       Because, in that moment, we weren’t raging hormones or lonely tears, we weren’t half assed promises or sneaky moments, and we weren’t runners in this race called life that for some reason everybody had convinced us we had to run as fast as possible. We were simply two teenagers, a blonde haired boy and a green eyed girl, not trying to prove anything to eachother, or preserve eachother’s feelings, or looking for love in the closest person with a similar heartbeat. We were only singing at 60 miles per hour on Highway 90, simply being in eachother’s company, and I realized, that’s all I really needed.
       I didn’t need him to kiss me, or hold me, or tell me that he loved me in a way other than brother-sisterly. I didn’t need him to hold my hand or bring me flowers or ask me to commit myself to him, and himself to me. I just needed him, his presence, his smile, his friendship. For the longest time, his friendship didn’t seem like it would ever satisfy me. But, in that moment, it seemed to fill me up completly.
       As much as I wanted this boy to love me in a way that only one person can, and as much as I wanted to be the person that he thought of when he opened his eyes in the morning and when he shut them at night, I accept now that I will never be that person. And, I think I’m okay with that. I think that being his best friend will be enough. Because, I realized that, whether I like it or not, he’s changed me in so many ways, I really think I’ve changed him, as well. And, I think being eachother’s best friend is going to be okay, because I really, really think that, even though it’s not neccessarily what I wanted, it is undoubtably what I needed.
       I’ll probably feel different about this in the morning, but I hope to God that I don’t. On another note, pick up the book “Looking for Alaska,” by John Green. It’s really, really great.

Love and Foxes,
Bethany.

9:59 pm  •  26 April 2012  •  6 notes

My silence is deafening
It echo’s all around
I perfectly get my points across
with only my lack of sound
But, even though my absence of noise
should be loud and clear
I am silently screaming to a black abyss
For no one cares to hear

I will not laugh
I will not speak
I will never unveil
what makes me weak
I will not sing
I will not cry
I’ll not utter a thought
nor murmur
nor sigh
I will not speak, I will not speak
You’ll never know what makes me weak.

An oldie, but a goodie.
Love and Foxes.
Bethany

1:10 pm  •  23 April 2012

“I think I’ll go to Boston. I think I’ll start a new life. I think I’ll start it over, where no one knows my name.”

— “Boston” by Augustana

4:28 pm  •  16 April 2012

We burn our past
in kerosene;
Light it up
and watch it bleed.
The ashes drift
away on air,
bouncing off of clouds,
out of the atmosphere.

Our history rests
on papers marked
with ink,
with tears,
with broken hearts.
And, although from our past,
we still can learn,
better, it feels, to watch it burn.

And, when we see
ourselves reflected
among other creatures,
themselves unperfected,
we wish to change
the hands of time;
take back all our wrongs,
our frowns,
our crimes.

We sit and regret
all the things we’ve done wrong.
We reap the mistakes
of our fathers, and their sons,
and, we hate that we suffer
for what they so deserve,
so, it seems so much sweeter,
our past to burn.

So, we manipulate and erase
what we thought was engrained
deept into time,
into hearts,
into brains,
and we write all our dreams
that we wished had some true,
and we feed them in spoonfuls
to all of our youth.

Although this new history
seems to glitter and glow,
and we pride ourselves on
all these things that we “know,”
We still swim in the failures
that we refuse to face;
Just because we can’t see it
doesn’t means it’s erased.

So, we’ll gather together,
and we’ll sit by the fire,
and will feed it our scars
and our worn out desires.
Our history, we will trade
for a dream in return.
My, oh my,
What a pleasure to burn.

Inspired by Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451.” If you haven’t read it, I suggest picking it up, it’s really worth it.

Love and Foxes,
Bethany

4:50 pm  •  5 April 2012  •  5 notes

Ugh, she’s perfect looking.

(via tw4ttle)

5:19 pm  •  28 March 2012  •  76,874 notes

I
over eat
and
over sleep.
I’m
overly clumsy
on
two left feet.
I
over think.
I’m
over the edge.
I’m
over holding
on
to this fucking ledge.

Love and Foxes,
Bethany

1:08 pm  •  26 March 2012  •  5 notes

And everyone just sat and laughed.
And everyone got annoyed when I was upset.
And I kind of just don’t understand the disusting pleasure of watching a life being taken while it squeals for mercy.
And I’m appauled at the rancid fascination.
And I really just want to crawl into a corner and sleep for a while.
And maybe, I’ll find that mouse, and tell it that I’m sorry….

Tonight was not a good night….

Love and Foxes,
Bethany

1:35 am  •  24 March 2012  •  2 notes

(Source: never-trust-the-hazel-eyed, via perfection-wont-wait)

1:00 am  •  23 March 2012  •  34 notes

And, I’ll never say what I feel,
‘Cause, if I’m dead to you,
I think I’d rather be dead for real.

Love and Foxes,
Bethany

11:37 pm  •  13 March 2012  •  1 note