I’ll never tire of the simple wonder of your slowburning love.
Don’t make me sad, don’t make me cry, sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough, I don’t know why. Keep making me laugh, let’s go get high, the road is long, we carry on try to have fun in the meantime.
You’ve done nothing at all, to make me love you less, so come back when you can.
There are some things about myself I can’t explain to anyone. There are some things I don’t understand at all. I can’t tell what I think about things or what I’m after. I don’t know what my strengths are or what I’m supposed to do about them. But if I start thinking about these things in too much detail the whole thing gets scary. And if I get scared I can only think about myself. I become really self-centered, and without meaning to, I hurt people. So I’m not such a wonderful human being. — Haruki Murakami, A Slow Boat to China (via escaping-the-bell-jar)
An Exception: Just To Be Close -
He was in love with her,
And she loved another who -
Did not love her back.
He remained at her side -
Day and night,
Through tears, pleas, and heavy sighs
Just to bask in her presence.
Wrapping his arms around her -
Comforting not only her, but himself
Kissing her cheek to steal sorrows;
I was about half in love with her by the time we sat down. That’s the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty… you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. — J.D Salinger
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright; no one’s got it all.
“I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
who made me laugh
― Charles Bukowski
How many of us get stuck in one certain point of our past, one person that in our minds changed our perception on life and love and draw comparisons to that very event for the rest of our lives. Everything of course fades in comparison, not because it isn’t good enough or even better, but because nothing can match that first feeling of complete and utter infatuation, the feeling that one person is your meant to be. Even after it’s left buried in the rubble, we continue living because you can’t be a spectator in your own story, someone has to live it to tell it, but nothing ever quite feels the same after. For me it was a fairly brief encounter. I’ve been through things much more complicated and real, but they never left me with the feeling that they were my forever. One person still does and the fact that they are a continued presence in my life makes it that much harder to ignore and archive in the past drawer. This person once claimed I would forever have his heart, even after I broke it, and that he will always be left wondering what if, although he could never trust me enough to commit emotionally again. This person has a tendency of fucking everything up, even if completely despite his intentions. He doesn’t know better, he legitimately thinks that he is doing everything right and for the right reasons, but eventually it destroyed what we had built. No one ever acknowledged the blame, it was stuck somewhere in the nothingness that came to define us. I know he is wondering what if, still. I know because like me, even if he has removed himself from it, emotionally he is left standing there. Because like me, he hasn’t found anything that compares to the idealised version we have of us. I know because we have always remained the same, and even if we aren’t together, we are both still around and we can’t seem to make up our minds whether to stay or to leave. And ultimately either way the wind blows, we’re going to remain here completely engulfed in indecisiveness and fear. Fear of losing out if we move in either direction. Not to mention the fear of exploring something that in our minds still remains imperfectly perfect. No one likes their illusions shattered, somehow it seems more beautiful to let it be untouched and let the memories remind us that we once shared something good. Although it was laced and sullied by our flaws, it was still ours to keep forever.
If you’re reading this, it means I actually worked up the courage to mail it, so good for me. You don’t know me very well but if you get me started, I have a tendency to go on and on about how hard the writing is for me. This, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write. There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just say it. I met someone. It was an accident, I wasn’t looking for it, I wasn’t on the make. It was a perfect storm. She said one thing, I said another. Next thing I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation. Now there’s this feeling in my gut: she might be The One. She’s completely nuts in a way that makes me smile, highly neurotic, a great deal of maintenance required. She is you, Karen. That’s the good news. The bad is that I don’t know how to be with you right now. And it scares the shit out of me. Because if I’m not with you right now, I have this feeling we’ll get lost out there. It’s a big, bad world full of twists and turns and people have a way of blinking and missing the moment, the moment that could have changed everything. I don’t know what’s going on with us, and I can’t tell you why you should waste a leap of faith on the likes of me. But damn you smell good. Like home. And you make excellent coffee — that’s got to count for something, right? Call me.
I don’t understand how people don’t regret things, I have more regrets and wishes than I can count. Just sometimes I wish I had acted with my heart instead of my brain. My heart always lost the battle.
Anonymous asked: Exactly how I feel... you managed to put it into words...
Just saw this now, so I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but if you see my response, feel free to inbox me again, I’ll respect your privacy and avoid publishing it.