… before judging anyone else’s relationship, keep in mind that every lover has a different kind of love. ♥
…i’m drunk. can you come and get me?..
It took several bottles of liquor to give in. To even ask that of him. A few more and it was an absolute surrender. I even surprised myself on how much audacity it took to send that first message, to even admit he still is a much part of me.
And the replies somehow kissed more the sadness that I was already feeling. It was some sort of vindication that urge to drink more than I can handle. A rebellious effort to release him from my thoughts; to at least pretend that I am able to forget him.
Although I anticipated the answers, it didn’t make the pain hurt any less. It’s just sometimes, no matter how often we deny it or how often we accept it, we expect more from others because we’d be willing to do that much for them.
It wasn’t about how I was getting home, it was entirely about who I wanted to take me home. Drunk that I was. Just to see if he cared enough. Because I still cared enough even when others cared enough about me. He was the one that mattered.
Her life was beginning to make sense again, although she couldn’t say she was enjoying it. But her mind was clear, and her heart was not constantly as heavy. Only when she thought about him. But she knew that in time, she’d survive it. She had done it before and would again. Eventually the heart repairs.
— Emily Griffin
I cant figure out whats worse, having to know every single detail of your desperate love for some other woman, or having to know that you obviously didn’t even come close to feeling the same way about me.
….It’s not up to me anymore. If you want me in your life, you’ll find a way to put me there.
I think part of the reason why we hold on to something so tight, for so long, is because we fear something so great will never happen again.
I left you because you couldn’t give me what I wanted.. and funnily enough, it turns out you are also the only one who could…
I want someone who wants to understand me. I am tired of feeling like always having to understand everyone else, now I want someone who wants to know me. Someone who has scars and bruises and is tired as well, but still laughs at life and the sun and at the silly things. Someone whose hands, no matter how soft or rough, wants to touch slowly and softly. Someone who wants to hear me, who doesn’t want too much for me. Someone who will feel the things I cannot put into words or writing. Someone who wants to see me no matter how fucked up I am. Someone who wants me to listen to them too, to see in their hearts and lay in the sun with the grass blowing around us. Someone who can still dream.
We are all broken, but so few really laugh with joy anymore.
I want that back. I want someone like that.
Am I asking for someone perfect? I don’t think so. I would be fine if he was broken beyond repair too. All I ask is to be loved and understood.
I understand now.
You don’t get to choose, you just fall for someone. And you get this person who’s all right and wrong at the same time. Sometimes you love them so much, and other times they drive you completely insane, and no one can explain it. But the reason it’s so confusing is it’s love, and if love didn’t have challenges, what would be the point? No one said falling in love was going to be easy. There will be tears, laughter, anger, but it’s when you want to be together despite it all, that you know it’s true love.
It’s the second before you see me seriously giving up and you grab my face with both your hands, look at me, shake your head “no”, and let your right hand slide back to grab my hair and you kiss me.
It saves us.
I look at you. Everyday I see you again and I think that maybe you aren’t as great as I made you out to be. But then you speak or laugh or breathe and I realize that yes, you are.
If you read this, if you knew I wrote this about you you’d get scared. You wouldn’t be able to look at me straight. I know that. I know what it is like to be loved by someone you do not love.
I want you. I want some part of you. Any part. Every part. Those parts which you let everyone have, the parts which you share in conversation. I want those special parts, those parts you keep hidden from everyone.
I don’t care. Let’s run away to where the shooting stars fall and meet them when they land. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. I wanna burn with you like coal smoke sunsets over fields of eels. I’m just so tired of waking up all alone.