to love and to lose.
It’s when you hold eye contact for that second too long or maybe the way you laugh. It sets off a flash and our memories take a picture of who we are at that point when we first know “This is love.”
And we clutch that picture to our hearts because we expect each other to always be the people in that picture. But people change. People aren’t pictures.
— pleasefindthis, I Wrote This For You (via chipotlechickenburrito)
… and through the nights I had too much to drink and times i popped all those pills just to forget, i still believed in the person i wanted to become and remained inspired by my surroundings. there was always an open road that invited a certain freedom i had yet to have. and tomorrow still kept its promises and the days to come still welcomed new beginnings. and that was enough. it was enough to keep going.
i’m not surprised but definitely disappointed. was always that shoulder, that 3 am phone call, that unconditional love and none of it sacred to you. the wrong people always seem to know when to remove themselves from the equation. you fucked up this time.
i don’t know why the idea of being less than i can be bothers me. why i’m constantly at odds with myself, trying to understand my intentions and how that comes across to people. how sometimes i catch my ego overshadowing me and i feel ugly for it. and even when i pride myself over being honest and pure, somehow i get polluted along the way. it’s a constant need to be better than my reflection, but for what.
”I loved you, i loved you, i fucking loved you,” i whispered.
Maybe there was a part of me that didn’t think you deserved to know. I used to bite my tongue until it bled of coffined feelings and words left unsaid. There used to be days i took my coffee extra black and showers extra cold in hopes to forget you. How I buried myself in darkness hoping some day there would be light at the end of it. The way I suddenly forgot how to cry but every time we’d come together only to watch you walk away again, thorns punctured my rib cage and I realized love didn’t grow here anymore. And how it was the weakest shit the way you played devil, yet I was willing to go through hell just to resurrect the god in you. But even after all that, you taught me to pick myself up and dust myself off. I wiped away the tragedies of our past and i buried the causalities of wrong timings, what ifs, and could have been’s six feet under in order for us to cultivate the growth of new beginnings.
It’s been 3 years we’ve known each other and despite popular belief, it’s been such a privilege. There were times I felt like life knocked the wind out of me until I remembered the rare graceful moments you reminded me how sweet air tasted again. What it was like to die by the shards of broken promises and the piercing of betrayal only to weed out the roots of strength and confidence you once instilled in me. And for every trial and tribulation we’ve been castigated by, a benedicite acted as a boon in return for it. It’s been an amazing opportunity to have suffered and grown with you, it really has. And a part of me, has always been sheltered by you. I am not here if it weren’t for you who guided me. You will always shadow my journeys and I’m eternally grateful for that.
Do not let your demons overtake you. Do not let your sins spoil you. It’s always the hardest things to do that are worth doing, but tread through those waters because I’ll be there too. And when you finally find your way, we can finally both say, “Can you believe how far we’ve came?”
with you gone i welcomed an early winter.
you take what life hands you— you’re supposed to take it and run with it. some days you want to turn it away— not today, just not today ypu say. but there aren’t options, you can’t pick your situations. i mean you can prevent them from reoccurring, but you don’t get to modify and color it the way you dreamed as a little kid it was supposed to be. but you keep dreaming about it. you fantasize about everything that the world is willing to offer you, and what you’re willing to offer it. but you take the risk of taking in all of its catastrophies in order to savor the beauty left in it. you avoid the talk of war, understand the severity of it but it’s too heavy of a topic to consider when you too, have your own battles to fight. you don’t want to talk about the people out in the streets being strung along by life. they too dream like you and they too live just enough to hopefully make it through to tomorrow. and there are the robberies, and the murders, and the crazy. the news make a hoopla of it but you, you’d rather not entertain that reality. that reality involves you, or your brother, or your mother, or your absent father and anyone/everyone you care about. see, you’ve never had a choice of what’s been given to you, but you understood that you could pick and choose what you chose to recognize. you framed and shaped your life just so much that it’s still excruciatingly beautiful but adversity still knocks at your door. days you’re scared and days you’re tired. but you’re reminded by the small blessings that egg you on to keep going. life beats you down only to help you get back up, and you can never get enough of the taste of each victory. you bleed the sorrows of your world and the people you allow to inhibit it, yet you still find it worth every last drop.
— Haruki Murakami (via annabananainacabana)
i always return home when all else fails. i have a tendency to go back to what i know, what’s familiar. even if it’s been spoiled and outdated, i still long for it. my heart still lies there, or at least a piece of it and all i want to do is follow it there until things are okay again. sometimes i venture off from the expected comfort and demanded warmth in hopes to find it somewhere else but it has failed me, so many times. and so i crawl back to what was once good.
home is still with you, after all this time.