you are all that is sweet

18. Creator of some sort.• Use this as a reminder of my love.

[areeyouualivee]

““I hope we last. I hope we do. But if we don’t, this is how I want you to remember me: I want you to remember me curled up, listening to the sound of your heartbeat and tracing maps across your skin. Remember me laughing at your jokes, even the stupid ones. Remember me in hysterics for absolutely no reason and in tears because one time you made me so sad neither of us thought I’d recover. Remember me brave, that time you held my hand and I thought I was going to die; remember me scared and gentle and delicate and breakable - only for you though, only for you. Remember me happy, and all the ridiculous ways I tried to get your attention. Remember the way I was too stubborn to talk to you and how absolutely insane it drove the both of us. Remember all the firsts and how they were so delightful we went back for seconds and thirds and fourths. Remember the songs you couldn’t stop listening to and the childish dreams you allowed yourself about the future. If it’s any consolation I allowed myself to have them too. If it comes to it I don’t want you to remember the ending. Remember the beginning. Remember the first time you knew.”

— S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #132 (via blossomfully)

shoookkokokok

[melisica]

Love

[jupiterse]

[ikonicgif]

Frank Ocean for Boys Don’t Cry Magazine

[dream-the-perfect-dream]

JACKIE KENNEDY’S LOVE LETTER TO JFK.

Letter written by Jackie Kennedy on the day of the assassination.

[olivier-serrano-deactivated2023]

[themotivationjournals]

Find someone who loves you well. Someone who never belittles you. Even in the heat of an argument. Someone who is gentle with you, but does not treat you like you are fragile. Someone who knows what you are capable of, and celebrates those pieces of you. Not someone who is intimidated by your strength. Someone who doesn’t make you feel guilty for being flawed. It is not love’s job to punish you. And remember the person you love is just as broken as you are when they fall short. No one is perfect – do not hold them to this standard. Find someone who is patient, forgiving, and apologetic. Someone who practices forgiveness freely and often. Love someone who is humble, kind, and empathetic. Not only with you, but with a beggar on the street, or a stranger in the supermarket. Common courtesy is important. Compassion is important. Kindness is important.

Unknown  (via themotivationjournals)

[decision]

[bunnyjennyphoto]

[dakkho]

[blossomfully]

There she was, at 4am, in your bed. You loved her then, didn’t you? She was wearing your duvet like a cape, with her head poking out. She loved you back; she really did. You said, “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never met anyone like you.” She said simply, “kiss me.” So you did. You lifted her chin and kissed her mouth and swallowed her giggles whole. You felt her sunshine fill your lungs as she wrapped her arms around your neck. You felt the duvet fall as she leant forward. “Tell me a secret,” she said. She was always saying these things. “I’ve told you everything already,“ you said. Your lips were on her neck. “Tell me a secret,” she repeated. “Okay,” you sighed, “I love you.” “Tell me a secret.“ “I’ve always loved you.”

S. Zhao (via blossomfully)

[blossomfully]

And so you got drunk with him. Even though 13-year-old you swore that you would never drink. And you sat next to him at a party with 100 other people. And you memorised his eyes and felt alive.  And when he told a joke, you laughed. Properly laughed. Laughed so much that you could barely breathe. And when you looked up, he was still gazing at you as intently as when you’d looked away. And at some point in the night, he reached for your hand and you let him. And you found your fingers curling around his like they knew something you didn’t.  And you were happy. And it was like you’d never felt that kind of happiness before. And you told him clumsily, your head on his chest, “please don’t hurt me, I won’t know what to do if you do."  And he kissed your forehead and said, "okay”. And somehow, somehow, that “okay” was enough for you.

Sue Zhao  (via blossomfully)

[thelovejournals]

When someone tells you, “I love you,” and then you feel, “Oh, I must be worthy after all,” that’s an illusion. That’s not true. Or someone says, “I hate you,” and you think, “Oh, God, I knew it; I’m not very worthy,” that’s not true either. Neither one of these thoughts hold any intrinsic reality. They are an overlay. When someone says, “I love you,” he is telling you about himself, not you. When someone says, “I hate you,” she is telling you about herself, not you. World views are self views—literally.

Adyashanti (via thelovejournals)

[thelovejournals]

What a privilege it was to matter to you.

Beau Taplin (via thelovejournals)

[thelovejournals]

and love is a word used too much and much too soon.

Charles Bukowski, The Night Torn Mad With Footsteps (via thelovejournals)

[thelovejournals]

I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever, your leg my leg, your arm my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.

Charles Bukowski (via thelovejournals)

[blossomfully]

I hope one day someone looks at you like they’ve been waiting a long time to feel as happy as they do now. I hope they tell you cute things like how they found this cosy Italian restaurant around the corner and kiss your nose before spinning you around in the street. I hope when you ask them to go for a walk in the middle of the night they don’t complain that it’s too cold and even though you can see the condensation of your breath in the midnight air I hope you feel warm. I hope old ladies smile knowingly when you walk by, hand in hand, along the pavement and I hope you are smiling too. When he whispers how much he loves you I hope you feel your heart beating so fast you’re scared you’ll never recover. I hope he stays and makes you feel important, like he wants every part of this and isn’t afraid to admit it. I hope he finds words that touch you where his fingers cannot and knows how to pull your hair when you’re feeling electric but hold your soul when you’re fragile like glass. And I hope you find someone who asks before they kiss you, not because they need permission but because they want to see your knees buckle and your lips part ways. I hope their hands feel right around your waist when you reply ‘yes’ and again ‘yes’, until you’re falling apart in his arms whispering ‘yes, yes, yes’ and I hope you never need to ask if he’s the one because the answer will be staring you in the face.

S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #71 “I’m scared I’ll never feel love like the kind you write about” (via blossomfully)