Valentine’s Day and President’s Day both suck, so let’s just combine the two and call it a day.
(via obama2016)
Today I feel free.
& if you love me you will let me go
Imagine I’ve kissed your eyelids, your cheek. I’ve scratched your scalp very tenderly, very lightly, the way you like it, the way that relaxes you all at once. Imagine my eyes squeezed shut. Slow breathing. We share no words. There is nothing left to say. There is nothing that can change things, that can fix this. Just imagine my head buried in your chest & the enveloping silence. I must regain my life. I must recapture myself. In the end, my god, I love you, but there is not enough space here for me to adequately love us both.
"What makes lovemaking and reading resemble each other most is that within both of them times and spaces open, different from measurable time and space."
— Italo Calvino (via mycolorbook)
(via againitsjess)
I went on a date last night and then you texted and asked, again, whether I would come there. Start our days with coffee, end with you making dinner. Forever. I feel myself tug towards yes and then I remember why it will always be no with you and I.
There are people in your life who are going to love you for all of the wrong reasons. They will love you for the best part of your face, the best part of you naked, the best mood on your best day, the best story you ever wrote, the best outfit you ever wore.
They are going to miss the scar on the underside of your nose from the time your older brothers dared you to run across a pile of logs. They won’t know that you fell on a hidden nail just as you completed the challenge. They’ll miss the scar on your finger, too from the time you were seven and closed a swiss army knife on it. They won’t understand that these are two of only a handful of things you can remember about your childhood. They’ll notice that you have great tits, but they’ll miss that your thumb tucks into their palm when you’re walking together and that your eyes have darker circles when a migraine is coming. They won’t know you get migraines. They won’t ask where the story you wrote came from, so they’ll never know that it was true. They’ll love it because it feels real to them. They’ll miss knowing the sweatshirt full of holes that they criticized you for wearing was your dads. You might tell them some of these things along the way, but they will remember the best things instead.
They will love your good moods, your energy, your sense of humor, but miss that you never turn to them, but rather to a shower or a pillow or the back of your throat to shed tears. They won’t ever consider you strong.
When the parts that aren’t your best come out, some people will shield their eyes as if you have just forced them to look directly into the sun for hours until their irises burn. They’ll silently make you promise to never show them that again. Those things are not to be shown. Be at your best so I can love you. I would love you more if only you never show me those things.
And you do not marry those people. You do not sit and sleepily drink coffee with those people. You leave those people and you remind yourself that they missed the better parts of you.
(via againitsjess)
"It is stupid, you love him, people fall in love with people bad for them everyday, people eat food that’s bad for them everyday, people do drugs that are bad for them everyday, I do, and everyday people make and take the power and decide to NOT give into these things."
— wise words from my best friend
what do you need?
i need to love myself more
i deserve everything i need.
and i shouldn’t settle for less.
that’s not just me
that’s everyone.
but i have put myself in a situation
where i am not getting what i need
and so things are not lining up
and so i need to get out of it
however painful that may be.
things always change.
they’re supposed to.
i need someone who will actively love me
someone who will give as much as i give
which is a lot. i give a lot.
someone who will run with me.
who won’t let fear stop him.
i deserve everything i need.
and i shouldn’t settle for less.
that’s not just me
that’s everyone.
but i have put myself in a situation
where i am not getting what i need
and so things are not lining up
and so i need to get out of it
however painful that may be.
things always change.
they’re supposed to.
i need someone who will actively love me
someone who will give as much as i give
which is a lot. i give a lot.
someone who will run with me.
who won’t let fear stop him.
Everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five percent water.
And everyone you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes
you cannot even breathe deeply, and
the night sky is no home, and
you have cried yourself to sleep enough times
that you are down to your last two percent, butnothing is infinite,
not even loss.You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day
you are going to find yourself again.
(Source: finnualabutler, via le-scorpio)
Today I wrote you another letter
Except this one was one I
Actually
Intend for you to read
And for once
I didn’t know what to say
All these letters I’ve written you
Soggy letters, stained with tears
Over the past year -
So many words -
Today
I didn’t know what to say
I rambled
And wrote fluff and filler
And wayward thoughts
Not sure what to write
Not sure how to express
The acute pain
That comes
With having to say goodbye
This Sunday an airplane will take you away
(What I wanted to say
What I could not say:
I love you
Don’t go)
"I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people’s eyes when they realize they’re in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they’ve forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies. I love when people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words."
— (via creatingaquietmind)
Amazing.
(Source: freckledhips, via le-scorpio)
