Showing posts from June, 2012
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Someone spoke of his name today, then they all looked at me. Murmuring. Now you're like a very distant memory. Kept away. Locked with padlocks and bolts.
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I will miss you fleetingly, for a second every now and then, in a moment of weakness or fragility. I will think about how good it felt, like an evanescent, elusive dream. Until I recall that was exactly why it collapsed. It never endures.

I will miss you achingly, until every little nerve inside of me sets itself on fire and wants to break apart and escape from the confines of this body to find you, because honestly, you were the glue. I will tremble and shake and realize with pain, with tears in my eyes. I will let it go. I will realize that it has turned into a torrential downpour, and like a dam bursting, I will not be able to control it. I will feel the barely-repaired pieces of my heart break again.

I will miss you with a strange sense of detachment. It will be at times when I am doing nothing, and suddenly you will make your presence felt throughout me. Maybe it will be that I still haven’t wrapped my head around your absence. I will know that it was for the best, …
There comes a point in time when you can’t revel and indulge in the sadness anymore. Spring clean yourself. Dust away the cobwebs. Vacuum the base of your lungs. Polish the finger prints and dirt away. Within reason, do what makes you happy. It’s okay to be sad, but it’s just as okay to be happy.
Whatever is going on honestly needs to be sorted out. Like take a scissor and cut it the fuck out. Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.6
I have so much to say to write but I can't. Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.6
And there's people who claims they've been there from the start; from square one.
And there's people who swears they're not going anywhere, no matter what happens.
And there's people who tells you they love you through gritted teeth.
And there's people who reassure that it is okay to trust them.
And there's people who promises you forever; which usually is no longer than a few months or days.

I've learned that people always leave.
It's just a matter of time.
The writers weren't kidding when they said all good things must end. But I know this though; if you're one of the lucky ones, then whatever is good in your life right now; whether it be a person or an animal or a place or a moment. Then it doesn't have to end anytime soon.

How to say goodbye.

Meet them and maneuver the awkward hello. Look them over carefully, checking unconsciously for some external change. They look basically the same, unsurprisingly, more worn out maybe but what else did you expect. It hasn’t been that long. Realize you’re examining them without actually trying to see them at all. Realize this is just another meaningless collision of bodies in space and wonder what you’re doing. Feel trapped and ridiculous and get the urge to run but stay rooted.

Sit at opposite ends of something. A table, a couch, a subway car, anything. Sit anywhere but next to them. Make a point of the physical distance. Sit far away enough so that you can watch their hands move, watch their jerky adjustments. Watch their hands tear a hangnail, flick a lighter, twist a napkin. It’s suddenly unbearable to watch their hands. Look down at your own.

And start. Choose your words carefully from the list of things you planned to say; concise, carefully metered, explained. Have …

I don't need a boyfriend.

But I wouldn't mind having one. I'm not going to rely on someone for where my happiness comes from. I'm not going to always rely on that one person to make me happy. I just miss the little things, really. I miss the holding hands. Cuddles. Hugs and kisses. Just the little things. Eating together. Having a good laugh. Laughing at each other. Holding each other. Being able to tell them anything and everything. I want it all back, but at the same time. I don't. Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.6

I'm exhausting myself with my own mistakes.

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You are your own person. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise. Forget all the wrongs and what you've heard. The only thing that could hurt more than a few words is you believing it. Don't constantly create these barriers and walls in hopes that the higher you build, the harder it will be for anyone to get over. Your walls are only an illusion and your barriers are merely a piece of your insecurities screaming for someone to break them apart and mend them together.You know what's best for yourself, so don't back away because doubts are in the way. If there's such thing as too much pride when you're falling up, take a deep breath and work your way back on ground. You are your own worst enemy, so make mend or shatter yourself in loneliness. But never think things can never be fixed because things will be okay. Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.6
But just look outside love, there are stars outside and you can see them even through the shadow through city casts against the sky. And somewhere in the world, someone is falling asleep and dreaming of the day they meet you. Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.6
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here is where you will find me:

When my light is suffocated
by the dark shadow of disillusionment
when my crown of delicate blossoms has withered
and succumb to the thorns of time
when my lungs have grown heavy
filled with the black tar of hopelessness
when through world's evils have conquered my waning goodness.You will find me in every violin harmony, every Shakespearean sonnet, every fresh blossom.As I lay rotting in the ground
forever lost,
Forever spring. Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.6
And just when I thought things were going well, life managed to prove me wrong. Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.6
You're an empty skeleton with dark eyes filled with too many sleepless nights, too many doubts, too much and too little life inside of you. What's right and wrong for you anymore? You can't keep clinging onto nothing, that's why you keep failing. But you learn that everything always turns to nothing, sooner or later. Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.6

The writers weren't kidding about how all good things must end.

Then again, some things are far too good. They are far too good to go ahead and let go.

The kindest words I have heard today:

There will always be someone out there who is suffering worse than you do, but that doesn’t mean your pain doesn’t count.

"When you decide to die, little things begin to happen. You stop looking both ways before you cross the street, you start answering the door without asking who’s there. You don’t hold onto the railing when you go down the escalator, you don’t buckle your seat belt. You play with matches. You smoke, and breathe it in, actually praying it will make a difference. Deciding to die is actually almost nice, in a way. You stop caring. Even if you are not pro-actively looking for ways to kill yourself, you stop looking for ways to survive."
You know, some people say life is short and that you could get hit by a bus at any moment and that you have to live each day like it’s your last. Bullshit. Life is long. You’re probably not gonna get hit by a bus. And you’re gonna have to live with the choices you make for the next fifty years.

"The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die."

Here we all are, fooling ourselves that living life to the fullest would satisfy our cravings. We fool ourselves into thinking that experiencing the most would make us feel content. We are fools who only have foolish thoughts. We have questions etched inside our minds, but there are those who don’t bother seeking and there are those who fall into an abyss while trying to figure it all out. But why bother questioning the unquestionable right? No. The unanswerable? Answers keeps us calm while questions fuel our motivation. They go hand in hand, having us live til something tragic falls on our heads.

Here’s the thing though, exactly why do some of us live life fully aware that how we all started still has no answer? There are theories, but how do any one of us know for sure? How do some of us live with the thought that through all the struggles while we are alive would be gone the instant we meet with Death? We are all searching for something to fill the gap we have within o…

Love 101: Things I've learned.

You should never ruin an apology, with an excuse.When you’re wrong, bringing yourself to apologize is the hardest part - why ruin it with an excuse?
If you’re truly sorry for what you did, just apologize, and leave it at that.
Either you control your attitude, or it controls you.
It’s one thing to get angry about this or about that, but when you become an angry person, your attitude is no longer yours - it is YOU.
Have you ever found yourself in the middle of a  blowout, angry as all get out, but regretting every passing second? Have you ever been yelling, saying words that you know you will regret, but can’t stop, because you’re already heated up and rolling?
Getting a rein on your pride THEN and apologizing THEN is the best way to go, because if the person is worth it, you’re going to have to apologize sooner or later. And, it’s better to do it, before you’ve caused pain that you will regret.
You CAN become your emotions - choose the ones you frequent, well.
Money is a lousy way of…
I miss knowing you were always there. I miss the security. I miss the stupid fights that either made us shut up until next time or somehow made us stronger. I miss holding your hand. I miss you holding back. I miss you not holding back. I miss your scruff and always being amazed that I walked away without severe beard-burn. I miss those nights when we didn’t want to stop being with each other. I miss getting so pissed at something you would say or do and trying to deal with it on my own until you made me fess up. I miss surprising you. I miss being surprised by the glimpses of your humanity every now and then. I miss the look you’d get when I’d touch your cheek. I miss how you thought you were so stealth with your mood changes when you really can’t hide them from me. I miss how Ialways knew where I stood. I think I miss your hugs the most. Didn’t need them often, but now when I do, it sucks to know you’re not around to give them. But somehow, it doesn't hurt as much…

"He kissed me. Really put his arms around me and kissed me. It went through my body like he had flipped some electrical switch and lit me up. His skin was so warm, and he was suddenly so beautiful, and I thought, oh, this is what all the hype is about."

She’s got that distant look, no longer with that glow - blank stares and fully grasping that emotionless demeanor. The pain has settled itself on her back and her scars is peeking out from under her sleeves, she’s losing grip on reality again - she’s disappearing. She swore to fill that hollow space with something new and wonderful but it ended up swallowing her. Dark and cold, she’s got that distant look.
How do I say that fate
f e l l
short, or that I am nothing
but a failure
failure failure (fucking little failure)
with a slutty heart who’d get
on her knees if that’s what it took
for you to love me,
or how disgusted the little girl I used
to be would be if
she could see me now. (I’m
glad she can’t.)
Date a guy who writes. Date that someone who doesn’t concern too much being the best looking man in the world. The guy who doesn’t toil for minutes or hours in front of the mirror. He spends an ample time in his room, or on a solitary bench in a public park, or on train and bus stations with his pen and notebook formulating the perfect words, putting life in his lines through wordplay, writing the loveliest poems. He doesn’t mind being alone on weekend nights in the back-alleys or risking his life climbing the roof just to have an unobstructed view of the sky, to muse with the stars and summon a conversation with the moon. He doesn’t mind battling the cold that bites his skin as long as he tunes the right melody for the song he’s writing for your anniversary,or a guaranteed chapter entry on his book, that he is anticipating to give you on your birthday. Yes, he doesn’t loathe the fact that he is stuck in that place, in that moment in time, squeezing his brain, while his…
you know who sometimes you're talking to someone, and they don't put as much effort in. It just makes me not bother anymore. seriously.
This is for all the times I leaned on your love when my own two legs refused to hold me up. This is for all the times you held me steady, held me stable, when my hands shook with broken trepidation and I didn’t know how to be strong, anymore.. for the liters of tears I had cried in your presence and in your presence only and for the little acts of kindness that you knew I needed to stay rooted to this life. And this is for understanding that some things just aren’t meant to be said out loud- that by trying to substantiate something intended to be intangible would make it mean a little less, make it seem a little less.. and this is for all the times you nodded anyways and told me that it’s okay if I said nothing at allbecause I didn’t want to tint the saltwater in my veins a different color of tears and sea. This is for getting it, even when there was nothing left to get. This is for getting it, anyways.

And I don’t want to think about doing this all alone- this is for …
“oh, haven’t you heard? I thought you knew. I’m crazy about you, you see— you do to me what the moon does to the sea.”
I want to  inhale the stars
and choke
on the dust of all
the lives they held.
No one will ever understand the constant pressure that self-harmers have, unless they are one. Keep your sleeves down. You're warm? Too bad. Don't change in front of others. You're disgusting, don't make people have to suffer and look at you. No dresses unless accompanied by a formal LONG SLEEVE coat. It's summer and you want a tan? Suck it up. Absolutely no bikinis, or swimming for that matter. No sports either. Don't attract attention to your arms, do you want people to know you're crazy? Don't tell anyone, they will just leave you. Society doesn't approve of you. Don't forget to buy more bracelets. And lastly, keep smiling.
when people send me messages on anon, and I don't know who they are. I get defensive. So love, if you don't want me to be a complete bitch. Then write your name.

Happy sweet 16th.

"i like listing to acoustic music because its like they’re kissing me all over with lyrics"

I want to go on a date to like a bookstore is that nerdy like we can get coffee and drown ourselves in books on a rainy day.
"Leaving feels good and pure only when you leave something important, something that mattered to you. Pulling life out by the roots. But you can’t do that until your life has grown roots."
I fucking hate everyone I know. I swear only a HANDFUL of them are good. I fucking swear. And the ones that I actually connect with and like don't even go to the same fucking school from me or they're like god knows how many continents away. Fuck this place.Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.6

everything i've ever let go of had claw marks on them.

- David foster WallacePublished with Blogger-droid v2.0.6
If nothing else, I hope you know that I love you with every ounce of my being. I hope you realize you importance not only to me but everyone who has been lucky enough to know you. I hope you know that when you're feeling down, I only ever strive for you happiness. I hope you remember that no matter what, I'm here for you and I fully intend on staying in your life for quite some time. I hope you recognize the fact that I appreciate and adore you without restraints, and that this will never change.
What little is left of my strength is found in quiet moments and clandestine meetings- it’s not something I broadcast very widely. And I do believe that someday someone will save me, because no matter how cynical I may have become, it’s something I refuse to let go of- this, I suppose, is my quiet strength in itself. The walls are my shelter- they are what keeps me strong, always. And only one person knows how to break me completely, and knock them all down.. it’s only when I’m with him do I allow myself to be weak. But even still, there are things you can’t say or write or convey to anyone in any way and it’s a perk of being an introvert. You learn how to live with yourself and all your fragile strength.

"If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything."

-Mark Twain

But I never told them everything.

You know what I mean, don't you?
          How sometimes, even with best friends, even with the sisters of your heart who laugh with you and cry with you and know every single minuscule detail of your first crush and final heartbreak, you still can't tell them everything.
          Even best friends have secrets.

By Marianna White.

I will never forget how you smelled that day like your mom did your laundry and like you wanted me to want you and breathe you in until I got lightheaded and had to sit down and i will never forget the way you looked at me like like you could sort through all the cutter in my head and I will never ever forget how your voice sounded soft and sudden and illuminated just like your eyes when you said I was different and that was the exact moment when I let myself feel again.

Funny how we try to move on and at the same time hold on.

for me love, there is only you.

"I didn’t mean to hurt you this way, but I’m not what you need so I guess I’ll just be on my way."

"And I don't understand how a person can go from running on the beach and looking at the stars and laughing and singing out loud in the car - to feeling like. This."

Your memory is breaking my heart.

Despite my empty mouth, the words are in my mind. I have a lot to say but it's really difficult for me to describe how I feel when you're around. You left me speechless baby. That's how I am when I talk about you.

To the boy who has my heart.
I feel like my life is so scattered right now.

Like it's all the small pieces of paper and someone's turned on the fan.
But, talking to you makes me feel like the fan's been turned off for a little bit. Like things could actually make sense.

You completely unscatter me, and I appreciate that.
So much.
We were promised to be young and immortal.
We will not rot in the dust.
"I am still so naive, I know pretty much what I like and dislike. But please don't ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?" - Sylvia Plath

"The things you hope for most are the things that destroy you in the end."

-David levithanPublished with Blogger-droid v2.0.6

"I wanted to gather up everything I just said and stuff it back into my mouth. But once you’ve said something you can’t unsay it. Your words are out there, aren’t they? Buzzing around in the quiet of the room so you can hear them echoing back to you."

i love the spaces
    between words,
    the white gaps
    that keep the
    letters apart

    they sit there

    and they
    try to sell you

I am happy.

I deserve to be happy.
Everyday, I see people write about the ones that hurt them, the ones that walked out of their lives and the ones that stopped loving them.

But what about the ones they hurt? All the people they walked out on? The ones they stopped loving because they couldn’t find it in them to love them the same way?

You never see anyone write about that.

Why would anyone choose to be in love with another?

They call it "falling" for a reason; it's an accident, a mishap.

Too many make the mistake to keep falling, to drown and sink in it. And when all is said and done, they are unable to get back up on their feet.

Life is swell.

being alone in bookstoreslong phone callslooking down at the clouds on an airplanethe feeling of drinking hot chocolate milkdays when you meet your goalsbuying art supplieslaughing until your belly hurtsstarlit nights and firefliesdrinking teaseeing the stars during late night driveslaughing kidsdancing in the rainknowing that good things are happening somewhere every minute of the daylistening to thunderstormsmemoriesthe sun is there everydaybuying school suppliesfavourite songsmeeting people with your music tastesmiling without reasonlying on your bed in your underwear after a long dogsgood bookstaking napsdiscovering new bandshow excited dogs get about everything

Dear girl with big eyes and little hands.

"What do you want, love? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you. Sincerely, a girl with big eyes and little hands."

I want you to write me a letter and fill it with your deepest fears and your petty little worries and your dreams that you’re too scared to tell anyone in fear that they’ll never come true and what you think about late at night when you can’t sleep and the reason you cry in your room until the early hours of the morning and all the feelings you get in your stomach and your chest and your heart and your fingertips when you think about that special person and the place you hide the things you write when you can’t say things out loud and the story of your first kiss and the first person you gave your heart and the first person who broke your heart and the feeling you get when you close your eyes and listen to your favourite song and fold it into a tiny rectangle and put in my bag and I will read it and cry and smile and laugh and probably fall in love w…
“Hello, how are you today?”

      “Very fine, thank you.” (No, get out of my sight. I am sick and tired and I’m nursing this hangover, from a party I went to to get high-) “How about you, dear?”

      …her voice rings past my ears

I've missed this. I've missed this feeling. I've missed this feeling a lot.

(I am selfish, and greedy, and I want you all to myself.) If I was younger, and more reckless, I would be able to say all of this out loud. I want to tell you all of this without having to admit any of this, that no one missed me and that I was just another smile for their fading polaroids-. But the train station is empty; the art room is still illuminated; I still don’t fly kites and you are in Austria and you are still beautiful; and the air is frozen in its heat. I wish I could tell you how much I want to press my lips against yours without having to want to  jump   crawl out of my skin. I wish I could tell you any of this without having to pull this trigger, or having to run out into the streets and scream -

this sentence is a moment of spaces for everything I have forgotten to say, or was never brave enough to say out loud.

when an artist wants to show you their art

or a writer wants you to read what they’ve written

it’s quite often an expression of trust

because a poem or a story or a painting are often things that come from the heart

little pieces of the artists themselves

and if they’re willing to share it with you

you should appreciate it.

And I can’t bring myself to jinx you because part of me still wants to believe we’re twelve and laughing and that every things’s going to be fucking fine.

pa ra mo ur: a story of the unrequited

i. Part of my heart is still chained to that basement, to the train station where the lights met my scream. You will always give me butterflies, so come back and give me a chance to run back into your arms. Because I always wanted to be that movie scene girl people would return for.

ii. You could make things so pretty. You even made me out to be someone, someone who could be saved, someone who would be loved. You said you would have died for love, but I said that am no you. (you called me a liar.) (we are poets, poets lie, and it takes one to know one, beautiful.)

iii.. And then I really wanted you, the boy I can’t have the boy I was too scared of going in too deep for.The prince of my castles in the air. I wanted you to be the air I breathe; I wanted to be your oxygen; the wanting of you to be the flowers blooming in my lungs ; just waiting for someone like you, someone like you, you.

iv. You were electric, and I couldn’t get over it. Sun-kissed, scathed, paint-stained. You were are so …
I think it’s a pretty damned fucking amazing feeling when you read something someone has written, and their words are so spot on with what you’re feeling and you’re wondering why haven’t you met this person ever before and then you realize that means they’ve felt the exact same thing as you, and it’s okay because it makes you feel so less alone.
love, said a voice as his heart extinguished. He did not know how to love, and the walls around him were very dark, so he did not know what to do. He could not love for a very long time
One day I'll have the courage to stand up and walk our of your life. And when I do, it's your turn to watch me leave. Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.6

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Hahahaha lookie here. Just managed to Fuck things up again. Weeee. God i am so good at this.
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why bother with feelings?

All they do is get in the way.
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