why does every ‘i miss you’ text feel like i’m stabbing myself
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@consistentlyinlove
why does every ‘i miss you’ text feel like i’m stabbing myself
does ur heart ever just hurt all the time
i always wanted to send you a letter, but only to tell you how unlovable you made me feel. i’m still trying to shake off this feeling years later.
Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh
i feel like i’ve been in love with you for two thousands years but also two minutes. it feels like i’m throwing my heart and it shatters. it feels like i’m growing up and you’re growing apart. every thread that tied me to you is now unraveling before my very eyes and i can just watch and hold on as tight as i can. what did i do? why did this happen? i wish that you could sew us back together. i’m tired and my hands are worn
i wish that unrequited love was uncomplicated
thinking about when anthony bourdain said “what nicer thing can you do for somebody than make them breakfast?” / and when dean martin and helen o’connell said “how do you like your toast in the morning? i like mine with a hug” / and when honorée fanonne jeffers said “see, stay alive/in the meantime, laugh/a little harder. go on/and gnaw that bone clean” / and when i called her on the phone my mama said “come home and i’ll cook you whatever you want, i just want you home”
and when bobbie gentry said “come on, darlin’, time to get up, i have your breakfast table set up/it’s such a lovely mornin’ to see and i have my mornin’ glory with me” / and when the bee gees said “breakfast in bed, wrapped in each other and out of my head, she keeps on coming back for more” / and when alan alda said “flirting over food is really the best way to flirt; it’s combining two really nice things—food and sex” / and when ada limón said “this morning/the sun is coming alive in the kitchen./you’ve gone to get us gas station coffee/and there is so much life all over the place” / and when we skype in the mornings my partner and i drink coffee together and if we skype in the evenings i always ask what they’re having for dinner and even though they rarely know what they’re having it still makes me laugh to ask
last night as i was falling asleep i was thinking about the beauty of loving someone in any form and just wanting things with them without any ulterior motives or any other goal. like wanting to be around someone because you love them and want them in your life, not because they can do something for you, wanting to make someone food or make things for them in general not because you expect something in return but because you want them to eat well and to be happy. wanting to hold someone just because you want them close and want to make them feel safe and warm. wanting to wash someones hair because you love them and want to take care of them. anyway i think its really sweet and beautiful how a lot of times when we love someone we do things like this
Yes, there is a place / where someone loves you both before / and after they learn what you are.
Neil Hilborn, "Lake", The Future
mark doty // jorge luis borges // salman toor // emery allen // margaret atwood // mead schaeffer // howard pyle // the fratellis // flyte // john keats // wisława szymborska
Trying to make sense of the kind of freedom and tenderness that can only come from so much loneliness
charlotte ager / sean thomas dougherty / félix vallotton / clarice lispector / beya rebaï / may sarton / maria medem / quint buchholz
i want to cry. i wish i could cry or scream. i fantasize about getting out of the bed, going to the kitchen, and smashing all the dishes in the backyard. i want to yell but my mouth stays closed. i want to talk to someone but there's no one. i haven't gotten a text in months, i doubt someone even knows my phone number. i want to scream myself hoarse. i want to drink until i pass out, doesn't matter where. i want to hug someone. i want to cry. i want to pinpoint what i am feeling. i want to feel something. sometimes it feels like i am suffocating, especially when i shower with hot water. sometimes i can't breathe. i want to laugh. sometimes my hands shake so bad i think i might die. i want to go to the park and breathe. i want to feel the sun on my face. i want to talk about this but even with a therapist my throat closes up and nothing comes out. i want to cry. i want to dance. i wanna make friends. i want to bleed out. i want to go the beach. i want to scream until my legs give out and fall to my knees like in the movies. i want to know who i am. i want to enjoy things. i want to feel something, anything but this weight on my chest. i want to run away. i want to go back in time and do things differently. i want to go back in time to that night and jump. i want to add more scars. i want to go back in time and stop myself from getting any scar at all. i want to cry. i want my mom to hug me like she hasn't done in years. i want to bite on my arm until the skin breaks. i want to go to a river just to listen to the water moving. i want to stop existing. i want. i want so many things. i want to get up. i want to eat something. i want to take a bubble bath. i want to yell in everyone's faces until they notice me, and they notice the agony that engulfs me. i want to rip my skin off. i want to feel at peace. but all i do is turn up the music and stare at the empty wall next to my bed.
From my series, To Hold and To Be Held
(Color pencil on paper)
Instagram: ismael.guerrier.art
Louise Glück, from “Aubade”, Poems 1962 - 2012