Growth Grant Me Strength

Ask me anything   featured   my face   diary of a dirty young man   

My name is Dom. what is there to say about me? Well i listen to hardcore music, i found a new love for writing, I used to play a lot of video games now i don't, I graduated from Rutgers university with a bachelors in history and a minor in political science. I am a normal 24 year old. Except i am dealing with major depression and it hurts me everyday. Everyday i wake up and remember that depression is a real thing and that my mind can be a dangerous place. Im working everyday to remember who i am, if you like you can talk to me.I am trying my best to be a better man. Despite all my fears i really am (being as an ocean)


nataliedurmer:

"I must continue to follow the path I take now. If I do nothing, if I study nothing, if I cease searching, then, woe is me, I am lost. That is how I look at it — keep going, keep going come what may. But what is your final goal, you may ask. That goal will become clearer, will emerge slowly but surely, much as the rough draught turns into a sketch, and the sketch into a painting through the serious work done on it, through the elaboration of the original vague idea and through the consolidation of the first fleeting and passing thought". [x]

(via fuckyeahbookarts)

— 3 days ago with 8976 notes
Over ripe

Ripening my
tongue
in hopes of
harvesting
a bittersweet
phrase.
As you parched
my earth, salted
my land, my
tongue dried up,

A dust bowl for only me to see.

— 4 days ago with 27 notes
#poem  #poetry  #poetry?  #creative writing  #writing  #spilled ink  #rejectscorner  #staygolden 
I seem to forget a lot

I used 
to dream 
of being an 
artist. 

Turning phrases
around tight
knit corners, 
a cutting edge
and biting wit.

Or draw,
setting you
in a sun, your
hair spun around

woven,

warmer colors of warmer days.

But lately I 
paint in shades of
dull, 

or I just don’t remember my dreams.

— 5 days ago with 11 notes
#poem  #poetry  #poetry?  #writing  #spilled ink  #rejectscorner  #staygolden  #creative writing  #free verse 

withthepunchesny:

It’s pretty rad when someone does a really good cover of one of your songs.

— 5 days ago with 17 notes

I couldn’t wrap my fingers around your spine and shake it loose from the bone, 
I couldn’t fight against the loss, I never set fire to your bed, 
I never burnt the bed sores, I never ate the flame, or drank the sweat, 
but if it burns me up I won’t char half as much as I’ll keep warm

(Source: unrecognizableface, via tofuttiqt)

— 6 days ago with 1837 notes
I’m ok with that

I’m ok with that

(Source: melt-banana, via calmrose)

— 1 week ago with 1820 notes
thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time. She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.


I just cried at this

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.

This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.

But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.

That’s what love is. Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.

But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.

But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.

And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

I just cried at this

(via ttimetosaygoodbye)

— 1 week ago with 341148 notes

lego-trip:

Every time bob says oh my god take a drink

(Source: pinkmanjesse, via thepainofmind)

— 1 week ago with 15788 notes

i-can-motivate-the-sun:

Pianos Become The Teeth- I’ll Get By

Because I could love and drown in your God damned smile lines,
but I think I burnt up watching you rallying to stay alive,
and I guess that’s fine.

(via sassysadprincess)

— 2 weeks ago with 2739 notes
Dominick Quagliata →

baddecisionsbadtattoos:

the-broken-home-still-shines:

This is my story from Live Through This, its a small piece of what i said a year ago about how i feel. Hopefully it helps someone.

These boys ain’t loyal bruh. Could’ve had some decency and covered the tats. My nigga the skeleton tried to starve himself to death sheeeeit. Shit like this won’t happen in the hood because A. Bitches is bitches B. Nobody fuckin with the geek tats. Nigga came halfway to death that’s why he looks like a skeleton. C. Niggas don’t complain like this and really appreciate life, not valuing hoes, safety pins, and punk rocks over a sunrise or a meal. My nigga the skeleton is an ungrateful richboy pussy nigga, but he tryna better himself! Laser removal my nigga please eat a steak and go outside.

All good dude. You know I’m rich cause my tattoos I bought myself. Oh man my geek tattoos need laser removal, I’ll be sure to tell my artist that. And cool bashing something that’s alittle personal. It’s ok. Cause taking stereotypes and living them is what I do best. Keep it up keyboard warrior. You make the world a better place.

— 2 weeks ago with 8 notes
baddecisionsbadtattoos asked: My nigga the skeleton, you remind me of Elliot Rodger with your height and your white privilege mannerisms. Bitches are bitches my nigga, you can't guilt them into fuckin wicha. Better yourself, ju heard?. Instead of being featured in a suicide blog, you should be featured in a bad tattoos blog..OH WAIT!! I GOTCHU HOMIE I GOTCHU!


Answer:

I’ll answer this publicly. Normally I would ignore these and think nothing of this petty attempt at slander. But since you took a picture of mine I’ll bite.

Say what you will about my writing, that’s fine. Also you can make fun of my size. I am short and I’m not built. But it’s funny you run a bad tattoo blog and take a picture that doesn’t really showcase mine. Also you sound like a 13 year who just discovered his first boner. Have fun being a keyboard warrior. Telling me to get off the computer yet trying to trash me over a website. Cool story bro.

— 2 weeks ago with 2 notes
What’s on tv?

I always hesitated
asking a girl
to watch tv with
me.
My tv was the stars,
where water dippers
fell over freedom
and we divined our
personality.
My tv showed the past,
when myth was what
we knew and gods
built self portraits.

Would she understand
or ask to change the channel
to E!

— 2 weeks ago with 8 notes
#poem  #poetry  #poetry?  #creative writing  #writing  #spilled ink  #rejectscorner  #staygolden