ria

for every sorrow ever endured

[atlanticluna]

I used to think I wanted a passionate love. One so all-consuming, that I would be unable to breathe by the throws of it. One so unreasonable, that it would feel abnormal to feel anything other than continuous nervousness, recklessness, anxiousness...

But I shortly realized, to my own discomfort, that all this time I have been searching for a soft love.

I want a soft love. A love that does not make you doubt your worth. A love that encourages you to embrace being flustered, fragile, nostalgic. A love that feels like a warm embrace, even if one against cold, shivered skin. A love that smells like blueberry pies, and blushes the color of tomatoes. A love that allows you to retreat into your own understanding, yet provides you with the company you need. A love that looks like roses against pearlescent satin.

There is beauty in those loves that makes us question our entire existence. But how wonderful it is to know that not all love is the same. How grandiose is it to know that some people chose thunderstorms, while some of us feel comfort in the simple rain.

[atlanticluna]

I wonder what it is like when your heart stops beating. I don't mean it in the way of dying.

How does it feel for your heart to stop beating? Is there a stillness in the peace of no longer having to be kept alive? Does a sort of emptiness exist when the beating finally ends? Is there relief in knowing that feelings slowly fade into nothingness?

Will you craw at your throat for air? For the possibility of one last word or thought with a hidden meaning behind it, that meaning being laced with the love and affection that is slowly slipping away, with each minute the heart is fading.

Is there a sort of desperation and despair, a hope of survival, a longing for the days that went by, synchronized with the beatings of a functioning heart?

Will the heart suffer as much as I do, when I am no longer expected to feel more than I can bear?

[atlanticluna]

I don't want a relationship like my parents—I cry out, watching a romance movie that portrays the "healthy" side of love.

I don't want a relationship like my parents—I claw at my throat, imagining myself in a relationship, catching glimpses of my mother's behavior in my actions towards my partner.

I don't want a relationship like my parents—I bend over and sob, blaming my father for the anger he's instilled in me because I am his daughter.

Why must I be the one to break the curse? They have shattered my perspective on love, and yet, I still strive to be better for the world, rather than succumbing to the same flaws.

[atlanticluna]

I will never be this version of myself again, so let me slow down and enjoy being with her.

Let me love the moments in which all I want is to destroy myself. Let me appreciate the strength it takes to keep myself together. Let me cry myself to sleep one more time, not because of misery, but for the moments I missed while basking in the shadows of my own lament.

Let me finally allow someone to reach me, to appreciate me, to touch me, to love me; and let that person be me. For none have been as true to me as I, despite the scarcity of gratitude towards myself.

[atlanticluna]

I saw a post that said the other day that when someone's gone, you become the primary keeper of their memory; by letting that memory go, it would be as if you're committing some sort of murder. The post continues on to then ask, "Where does all that love go?" In truth, I think we're all just a library of memories for someone to check out. After someone is gone, we keep all those memories; we turn those memories into our own, for us to then share them with someone, and they make them into their own. We are all just a collection of each other: of each other's wounds, of each other's scars, of each other's words, of each other's love.

How beautiful it is to think that we can check out a different story, go on a different adventure, read a different text in a different font, after we are done with one particular story, whether we wanted the story to be finished, or not.

[atlanticluna]

when venus is in retrograde...

it's been 2 years, and sometimes those 2 years make me think I'm invincible.

those 2 years without you, those 2 years where I had to build a new version of me from the ashes that you left me in, those 2 years really did show me that I can live without you, undeniably.

however, when venus goes into retrograde, I start looking at places where I can find you, places where I can find us. I start searching for the smallest thing that can lead me back to you, can turn back time, can make you once again mine.

venus in retrograde ... and I miss you as if 2 years haven't gone by, and my heart hurts as if i'm still the same as I was.

[atlanticluna]

I thought I loved you the moment I sent our names up to the moon, hoping, promising in a forever eclipsed moment with you and I.

I thought I loved you when I traced over all your freckles, and imagined how my lips would carve and crease into every single one of your hidden holes.

I thought I loved you, when I promised you a forever by your side, no matter the weather, no matter the shine.

I thought I knew what love was, until I sat here a year later, and your name and mine are still together in the moon, while our spirits can no longer see eye to eye.

I thought I knew what love was, but I miss you every day.

Happy 1st birthday without us knowing each other anymore.

[atlanticluna]

Today I ended up looking at something that I shouldn't, it's been a long 6 months of healing, of hurting, of learning, and today ... I should've known better.

The only way to be close to you is through my dreams. In a paradise where only you and I share. I saw this quote one time that said that we all have different dimensions of ourselves and they're out there living differently, going through things differently.

Well, I like to think that in one dimension we're still together, our brokenness never won against our love. Traumas were never inflicted, pain did not exist within us. It's just us. You with your long hair, warm smiles and nice hugs, smelling like a flower.

And me with less scars, less tattoos, less piercings, my same long hair, less experience in this thing called heartbreak. In this thing called emotional abuse.

I still think about you, wishing I could switch dimensions even just to visit you.

[atlanticluna]

How do you stop missing the person who hurt you?

Knowing that you're bonded by what they called "love"?

[atlanticluna]

What to write ... what to write...

Life is hard. There are nights that I can't sleep because of the overwhelming love I still carry for you. I carry this love everywhere I go. I try to not think of it as obsession, but how can I still love you when you broke me in ways no one was ever able to?

I think about you all the time. I've convinced myself I don't remember the way you look or sound, but then you appear in a dream and it's as if we never left.

Today i'm allowing myself to miss you, to dream about the life we could've continued having, to dream about our shared goals, ambitions, kisses and hugs.

But tomorrow I hope this all goes down the drain, and I stop clinging into the made of version of you that I have in my mind, because if that were the real you, you wouldn't have crushed me so thinly that I had to become a new person out of the ashes that were left of me.

I love you, i'll always love you, but please stop torturing me this way. I can't have you, but I can't seem to live without the thought of you.

[atlanticluna]

I never thought I would be the one in this postion. These are experience that i've read only through books and saw in movies, but God, how terrible does it feel to be living in flesh of it.

It's true you can't heal a heart by opening it up to someone new, but it's 3:22 AM and while i'm answering those stupid "get to know" questions we used to do, I can't stop but think of you.

How well we matched energies when we did it, how we would look up more and more questions until we knew each other so well, that there wasn't a shred of personality we didn't explore within each other.

How I miss the constant "you're cute" "no! you're the cutest!" and how in the words of someone else, they will never feel the same.

It's true that you can't heal a broken heart by allowing someone in, but gosh, why did you have to leave my heart this way, why did you have to ruin me in ways I never imagined to be ruined, why do I have to see you in every new person I meet?

You're gone, but your memory in my heart and mind remains, and it hurts to think that i'll always be comparing the people I meet to the person who hurt me the most.

[atlanticluna]

They promised they would be back and I actually believed them.

How foolish of me it was to think they were missing me as much as I was missing them.

They were suffocating in this agony, the same way I was.

They were hurting because they loved me the same way I loved them.

How stupid of me to think they cared for me the way I cared for them.

[atlanticluna]

The symptoms no one talks about:

• Disliking stuff you used to adore because it reminds you of certain memories.

• Not being able to eat because you start thinking of certain things and it causes anxiety.

• Crying, so much crying, drowning in tears.

• Trying to find condolences and understanding in people who may or may not help you.

• Seeing their name everywhere.

• Seeing their favorite things everywhere.

• Losing yourself.

But how, I wonder, is it possible to get over a person? You see them in every thing, you smell them everywhere. Their favorite color happens to be the color of the sun. What happens to the memories we stored in the most sacred place in our mind?

If only there was an amnesia potion for the heartbroken.

[atlanticluna]

I got my heart broken by the worst heart breaker of all. She came in swiftly, started acting like she was the only person in the relationship. She did not love, but wanted to be loved. She did not adore, but wanted to be adored. Heart break came in the form of my best friend, long, unruly, curly hair, wide hips, moles on her neck. Heart break screamed at me, told me she no longer wanted to be my friend, told me she did not want to rekindle our relationship. How could heartbreak do that to me? Then I thought, "of course, open yourself up to love and this is what happens." Heart break knows all my secrets, knows me upside down and downside up. Heart break made me cry every day for 4 months, made me lose my appetite, made me wish I could stop existing and stop feeling. Heart break came in the form of my 3 1/2 year best friend. It was bestowed upon me the day I opened my mouth too wide, I fought for understanding, I begged to be loved in the way I loved her. Heart break came after I spoke up for myself and begged to stop being the platter of the second table, to be prioritized. Heart break is running me over on the darkest side of the abyss.

I begged, I screamed, I humiliated myself in front of heart break. All I wanted was a second chance, something to stop this suffocating agony.

Will things ever get better?

[atlanticluna]

11:11 PM.

once again, I’m thinking of you. While I’m listening to this podcast I wonder what you could be up to, if you would like to listen to podcasts with me, if you ate and if you had your cup of black coffee that you have every day at 3 PM.

Is this what love is? Or is this my version of creating a fake life in which I get to see you do all these things but next to me instead? Oh, how there is beauty in loneliness, because without loneliness we could never let our imagination roam wild, we would never know what it is to be happy in our mind, even if it’s only for a small portion of the time.