kill your heroes
ajelouishnarration asked:
Hi, Miss Chandra! :) I'm one of the ardent readers of Candy and I'd just like you to know that your writings matter to me. I really love your articles. They're very substantial and creative all in one! *I sound like I'm sorta fangirling* Looking forward to more of what you'll be able to put up! xx

Thank you so much, sweetie! Keep reading Candy! x

"If we listened to our intellect, we’d never have a love affair. We’d never have a friendship. We’d never go into business, because we’d be cynical. Well, that’s nonsense. You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down."

Ray Bradbury (via good)

(via allthemisfitsandlosers)

"Let me go."

These words are everywhere, a dime a dozen—in a bedroom, a cafe, or by a hospital bed. But did you ever really sit down and think about them—not just what they mean as a whole, but what the actual words mean? Think about it. What does let mean? To allow someone to proceed. To give permission. You are the only person that stands between this person and what they would like to do. Just like when you were younger, and you’d flip a coin, and in the split second it spent hanging in midair, you suddenly realize exactly what you wanted the answer to be. Let me go. The truth about those words is that they’re a secret plea. People tell you one thing and hope for the opposite. They can’t leave unless you let them.

I guess part of the reason I wanted to take you away was because I felt like you were robbing me of my life—how every missed call, every misspelled text, every missed connection meant another two, three hours of my life listening to you give me verbal batterings about how this was all my fault. See? I ramble now. That’s one of the few things left that we have in common. Except maybe the inexplicable urge to slit each other’s throats after a night of good sex. And maybe when I found her on your inbox, this complete stranger who knew how you liked your coffee, too. Who knew that you couldn’t stand Anthony Burgess. Who knew that you had three moles on your inner thigh. I feel like I just found out my favorite love song was written about a hamburger. But you enjoy this, don’t you? Of course you do. You’re so caught up in your own brokenness (God, I just used ‘brokenness’ in a sentence) that you don’t realize you’re dragging me down with you, darling. And down we go together. Let me hold your hand.

coping mechanisms

1. You were at a homecoming. I called, right after a particularly mind-numbing shower (the heater broke), and, like I did every night, I planned to slather you with an onslaught of mindless words. A determined assault on your sanity: half-loving, half-testing how far along you could go before telling me to shut up. 

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2. Loud music blaring. “I can’t hear you,” you called, evidently eager to hang up and drink away the night with friends you barely knew. “We’ll talk when I get home.” “Okay,” came my weak reply. A half-hearted attempt to show you I was upset. “Talk to you tomorrow?” like you’d never heard me. Fuck you.

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3. Brightness: 12

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4. I grab a brush to tame my hair.

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5. The cursor blinks expectantly.

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6. omegle.com

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7. Oh, good God. 

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8. The man is 63, with peaks and valleys of sloppy fat lining his torso, hunched over to take a good hard look at my face. “want 2 see my cock?” he invites, as if the offer was hard to turn down. Disconnect.

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9. A girl so beautiful, she made me want to squint. I sucked in my stomach of feeling smaller. I felt smaller, alright, but not in the way I intended.

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10. But then she surprises me and says, “Your hair looks gorgeous,” the millisecond before I disconnect.

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11. Black screen. “Can you hear me?” asks a low voice with an accent. “Hi,” I reply on my keyboard. The usual formalities: names (George), ages (18), locations (England), stories about cheating exes (walked in on them). That’s horrible, I reply. Yeah, but I’m good now.

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12. A pause.

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13. “You have beautiful eyes.”

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14. “Really? I thought they’d be swollen.” Let’s pretend I’m somebody completely different.

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15. “I just broke up with my boyfriend, you see.” A web of fucking lies. I sat up straighter. “Been crying the night before.”

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16. “Nah, they’re perfect.” It’s just the accent. It’s just the accent. It’s just the accent. “Ever been to England?”

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17. “Never been. But I’d love to go.”

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18. “Then it’d be to see me, yeah?”

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19. It isn’t fair. Boys from England don’t even have to try.

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20. But then he might have been hideous, so I disconnected.

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21. The next guy had a misspelled tattoo on his chest.

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22. “do u play magic gathering?”

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23. What am I doing here? 

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24. And I fall asleep before I can even think about the answer.

One little secret (or ten):

  • My mind is not a good place to be in right now. A vacation would be easy if I had a sprained ankle, but you can’t just waltz out of your mind like everything is okay.
  • You know, the funny thing is that theoretically, nothing is wrong with my life as of the moment. I fuck it up for virtually no reason. Terrible people fix things that aren’t broken. Just look at Pam Anderson.
  • Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been through too much shit, that when a period of relative peace enters my life, I just can’t accept it. Good things don’t last very long.
  • All you ever needed to do was fucking listen. I can deal with my own shit. I don’t need you to swoop in and give my life a vaguely higher degree of convenience. You just had to sit there and pop open a Heineken like it was just another monologue. Hell, you could have pretended you cared. At least you’d just be sitting there. Instead of running around trying to fix problems you can’t solve.
  • You’re so fake, you don’t even know you’re fake. So the better word for you is “delusional.” I would very much like to weed you out of my life, but I don’t know how to go about it.
  • This is an exercise for my self-expression. If I’m going to be writing more regularly, I better make sure I still know how to be coherent.