Originally written early October,
So love has been on my mind recently.
One thing in particular. The distance I feel from it.
I remember the first time I fell into it. The first time I fell into love. The way small things that she did would make my day. The way being with her brought the realest smile to my face. The way every small touch felt like joyous electricity shooting through every part of me: first through my skin, then straight to my brain, and then it penetrated deep into my heart and soul.
The way it can never be replaced.
The problem with being in love is that it's quite the same as a drug. The sheer ecstasy of moments you spend together will be the best moments you've ever experienced, and everything you do from the moment it disappears is fake for the rest of your existence.
The chemistry. God, every waking moment with her makes you feel more alive then you've ever felt before. It doesn't matter what you are doing or where you are, as long as you're with her. When all of your senses are screaming happiness and life itself is not just bearable, but also worth living! When me and her sang together it was perfect even if we hit all the wrong notes. Writing music with her was like nothing that words could or can ever describe. And you didn't just makeout to makeout. There was a certain passion when our lips touched and the music that we made together was the most beautiful thing that six strings and all the white and black keys on a keyboard couldn't compose. It was as if our souls were intertwined so closely that there was barely room to breathe. Her body and her smile and the way that she thought you were important were an art form that made the world go round every single day. And just like that it's over.
Like I said before, everything from that moment forward feels fake. I could go out with a girl, but it felt as if something big was missing. Suddenly kissing others felt as though I was just going through the motions and love itself seems like a memory that fades more each day. There is a hole in your very soul that feels as if the artist who was knitting you into a person slashed a big hole through the middle and the strings just dangle there, lifeless. And you have to move forward, because that's what she did, but you just can't fill that hole with anyone else, because the more strings you add on does nothing to fill the hole in the center. It's like building a kit for your life with absolutely no instructions and it's just too complicated to put together.
I still look at the pictures of us. They'll pop up on my Facebook or my computer and for a brief moment my heart will stop. There is always that one picture that reminds me how beautiful love used to be. And it wasn't perfect, the burned edges and the mess of it all, but somehow you just can't bring yourself to delete that picture.
And it will never happen again. I feel as though I lost my chance at being in love and the feeling of being in love and knowing that she isn't even part of my life tears me to shreds to the point where I cry at the loneliness until my tears dry up and I just sit there feeling empty. A shell with nothing inside. And then I realize that the rest of my life I'll always feel just like this. Because the truth is, you can't fake it til you make it. And faking it disgusts me. So if I curl up into a ball and roll away from the world don't try to stop me, because I'm not just doing the world a favor, I'm saving myself from it. And sometimes, it's better to be lonely than to feel an echo reminding you that there's nothing at all.
So love has been on my mind recently.
One thing in particular. The distance I feel from it.
I remember the first time I fell into it. The first time I fell into love. The way small things that she did would make my day. The way being with her brought the realest smile to my face. The way every small touch felt like joyous electricity shooting through every part of me: first through my skin, then straight to my brain, and then it penetrated deep into my heart and soul.
The way it can never be replaced.
The problem with being in love is that it's quite the same as a drug. The sheer ecstasy of moments you spend together will be the best moments you've ever experienced, and everything you do from the moment it disappears is fake for the rest of your existence.
The chemistry. God, every waking moment with her makes you feel more alive then you've ever felt before. It doesn't matter what you are doing or where you are, as long as you're with her. When all of your senses are screaming happiness and life itself is not just bearable, but also worth living! When me and her sang together it was perfect even if we hit all the wrong notes. Writing music with her was like nothing that words could or can ever describe. And you didn't just makeout to makeout. There was a certain passion when our lips touched and the music that we made together was the most beautiful thing that six strings and all the white and black keys on a keyboard couldn't compose. It was as if our souls were intertwined so closely that there was barely room to breathe. Her body and her smile and the way that she thought you were important were an art form that made the world go round every single day. And just like that it's over.
Like I said before, everything from that moment forward feels fake. I could go out with a girl, but it felt as if something big was missing. Suddenly kissing others felt as though I was just going through the motions and love itself seems like a memory that fades more each day. There is a hole in your very soul that feels as if the artist who was knitting you into a person slashed a big hole through the middle and the strings just dangle there, lifeless. And you have to move forward, because that's what she did, but you just can't fill that hole with anyone else, because the more strings you add on does nothing to fill the hole in the center. It's like building a kit for your life with absolutely no instructions and it's just too complicated to put together.
I still look at the pictures of us. They'll pop up on my Facebook or my computer and for a brief moment my heart will stop. There is always that one picture that reminds me how beautiful love used to be. And it wasn't perfect, the burned edges and the mess of it all, but somehow you just can't bring yourself to delete that picture.
And it will never happen again. I feel as though I lost my chance at being in love and the feeling of being in love and knowing that she isn't even part of my life tears me to shreds to the point where I cry at the loneliness until my tears dry up and I just sit there feeling empty. A shell with nothing inside. And then I realize that the rest of my life I'll always feel just like this. Because the truth is, you can't fake it til you make it. And faking it disgusts me. So if I curl up into a ball and roll away from the world don't try to stop me, because I'm not just doing the world a favor, I'm saving myself from it. And sometimes, it's better to be lonely than to feel an echo reminding you that there's nothing at all.
romaincrisis
snowghoul
origamiaround
baratheonpilled