We fuck up all the time. Trying to make it better with apologies and kisses. Empty promises, lies seen through eyes, things we try to hide from others. I think that’s what I hate the most - the simple fact that I know these things and You.. well, you see the good in everyone. You see past the…
“I miss that feeling when you go to sleep at night and when you wake up in the morning. It’s the feeling that everything is alright in the world. You know, that amazing feeling when you’re whole, that you’ve got everything you want, that you aren’t missing anything. Sometimes when I wake up, I get it for a moment. It lasts a few seconds, but then I remember what happened, and how nothing has been the same since.”—(via kidlovesdoodles) (via jcullo)
“I never forgot you,” you said. “I never gave up.” You told me of girls you thought you loved, of boys your parents tried to set you up with, and of running away when you were fourteen, sixteen, and again three weeks before. “It was always you I was waiting for. Still am waiting for.” You kissed me with the passion that had boiled inside both our veins for nine too many years. When I didn’t kiss you back you stepped away from me, looked at your shoes—shined boy shoes—and bit your lip. “I’ll wait,” you said, then turned your back on me and left. I never told my boyfriend of you. I told him that him and I weren’t working out, and that I wanted to see other people. He agreed, kissed me goodbye, and told me he would never forget me. I trust that he remembers me. Like I trusted you were somewhere waiting for me. Three years after that, at the age of twenty, you walked into my life with that nonchalant sway of your shoulders and the boy clothes you’ve worn since your parents let you choose what you were to wear. You smiled over at me, gritting your teeth together more forcefully than you would have if you were happy to see me. You passed me on your way to the front of a classroom full of broken hearted high school graduates and a handful of divorcees who needed something new. You shook the professor’s hand and took a seat in the front row. You were wearing slacks and a button-up shirt, and you had the hint of a smile on the left hand corner of your mouth throughout the entire lesson. You left before I could make my way over to you to say hello. You went through the door to the professor’s office. I waited for you, sitting in the front row and watching the door like it was a particularly funny sitcom. Maybe that door was an episode of Friends in disguise. Most probably it was a wooden door and I wanted to see you enough that anything that had to do with you was interesting. When you came out the door with the professor, you didn’t look my way. It was as if you knew I would be there waiting for you. Oh, how the tables have turned. When you finally looked over at me I was standing as your opposite. You were so masculine, I was so girly. You were so sure, I was so shy. We were opposites, you and I. I still knew that we were supposed to end up together. I guess you could call it belief in fate or God or something. I guess that’s what it always has been. Fate. God. You know, a greater power. You finally acknowledged me, heading toward me after you said goodbye to the professor. You swayed your shoulders and tugged at the bottom of your shirt—which wasn’t tucked in, even though it should have been. You didn’t smile at me. Instead you opted for a slowed-down blink and a nervous gesture that was brand new to me. Since when did you scratch at your wrists? “I waited for you,” I said, “because I wanted to say hey.” You looked at me like that was the worst thing I could possibly say. Your eyelids stumbled down upon your eyes and your head bobbed up and down. It was the least graceful I’d ever seen you. “I waited for you,” you said, “because I wanted to fall in love.” You stepped too close to me and looked me straight in the eye. You didn’t kiss me that time. You just stood too close to me and smiled into my mouth. I nearly kissed you, then I thought better of it and grinned at you. “I call being the bride.” The tree house is still up in my parents’ backyard.
-I don’t think I’m going to stop loving you any time soon. And, if I do, I promise that we would still be close. I’m not losing you like I’ve lost everyone else- the very thought makes me want to die with horror. At this moment in time, the only one who will end us is you, something I would not blame or hate you for in the slightest. -I don’t know whether I go over-the-top or not. Do my actions annoy you? Am I too affectionate? -If loving someone too much was a crime, I’d be serving life in jail right now. -Everything you do makes me sigh with wonder, every movement, every smile, every laugh, every touch. You are perfect in my eyes, and will never stop being perfect. -That night was one of the greatest of my life, and we did nothing but be with one-another.
-Yeah, we obsess, but at least we obsess together.
-I fear not my own death, but yours a thousand times over. -I’m such an attention whore… for which I am sorry… -I go to bed every night and get up every morning with a smile because you are the last and first thing on my mind. -I’m surprised my work doesn’t consist of your name, because I can’t get you out of my mind. -I’m a soppy git, and I know I am, but I don’t care, because you haven’t told me off for it, yet. -Kisses… craved constantly… but I will wait. I will wait forever. -If you cried, I would want to be the one to wipe the tears away… until then… I’ll cry for the both of us. -I’m hurting, hurting almost constantly, but I smile, smile every day. Smile for you, smile for me, smile for us. -I’m terrified. What of? I don’t know. But I know it’s something to do with my heart. -Give us a chance. Don’t give up on what we have just yet. Don’t give in. -I want to talk to you right this second. I always want to talk to you. But I’m so afraid of spoiling everywhere. I know I’d be the one to blame if we split apart. -What you’ve given me is hope. The belief that life isn’t as bad as I think it is. -I curse my mind, and curse it true. It’s full of horrible ideas and emotions that would drive you away. I pray you never discover them, and that they leave me for good. -I feel teary even as I write this. I’m so afraid. So worried. Always jumping to conclusions. -Please tell me now that this isn’t the end. -You must hate me for how stupid I am. -I’m far too excitable. Far too vain. Far too idiotic. -How can you want children and be with me, me, the one who hates children? -How selfish am I? Why do you put up with me? -I want the last note to be positive: I love you, and shall always love you, be it in a romantic sense, or the sense that comes with an unbreakable friendship that cannot be broken, no matter what.
“Be very careful if you make a woman cry because God counts her tears. Every tear a woman shed is equivalent to man’s sacrifices in life. The woman came from a man’s rib, not on his feet to be stepped on, not on his head to be superior, but on his side to be equal under his arms to be protected, and near to his heart to be loved.”—Kurt Cobain (via stephaniepham, takehimhome)