Existential Angel @existentialangelsblog - Tumblr Blog

Quizás el dolor más pesado es por aquello que nunca tuvo la oportunidad de existir.

There are days when I feel everything, and none of it makes sense.

I Want to Fall in Love

I can picture it but I don’t know how it feels.

For the world to still when his hand finds mine,

for time to lose its rhythm just because he’s near.

They say love is soft, sweet like honey,

the kind that lingers even after it’s gone.

But how long must I wait?

Is it not for everyone?

Why does it hide from me?

I want to love without fear.

To give, completely

not halfway, not cautiously.

I want to hand my heart to someone

and not feel like I’m losing it.

I want to wake up

and not feel alone in my own skin.

I want to find you

whoever you are.

I want to fall in love.

Not imagine it.

Not write about it.

But feel it.

I want a kiss that makes my chest ache,

arms that feel like home in December,

and mornings where the sunrise means we made it through another night—together.

Birthday Blues, Twenty-Six

Thirty minutes until I turn twenty-six.

Twenty-six. And the birthday blues are back.

I keep circling around the same thought: twenty-six years old, and what have I accomplished? The answer that lingers in the back of my mind is nothing. I feel like a failure because I’m not where I thought I’d be when I was younger. The teenager who dreamed up her twenties would be disappointed in me.

It’s not like I had a crazy timeline. I can’t even remember if I set goals for my birthday last year. But even so, it should feel like a special day. Instead, it feels like just another Saturday. A Saturday with cake.

Part of me feels like a loser, like all I’ve managed are mediocre accomplishments strung together. Yet another part of me resists making any expectations for this year, afraid that setting them will only make the disappointment sharper when I don’t reach them.

So here I am, on the edge of twenty-six, caught between wanting more and fearing the weight of wanting at all.

Perhaps the heaviest grief is for what never even had the chance to exist.

Each year I get older, but the person I dreamed of becoming never shows up.

Maybe the grief of growing older is knowing how much of me is still waiting.

I'll sleep this life away.

How long before even my memory forgets me?.

“ I know that you don’t, but if I ask you if you love me I hope you lie to me”.

If I gave you less would you want me more?.

We must be our own before we can be another's.

Becoming whole, not waiting for someone.

A Reflection on Readiness

I didn’t see love as something to win or unlock—it was never a prize. I only wanted to reach a place where I could meet it with both hands open, where I wasn’t distracted or weighed down. So I set goals for myself: finish this, achieve that, build stability.

Now most of those things are done, and part of me expected the next chapter to naturally turn the page. But life isn’t linear, and love doesn’t follow the timelines I draft in my head. Readiness doesn’t guarantee arrival.

Maybe being “ready” doesn’t mean the moment someone walks into my life—it means I’ve created space within myself, so that when they do, I’ll be able to meet them fully.

I love like a priority and get loved like an option.

“In the steady thrum that accompanies quiet, my mind is unkind to me. I think too much. I feel, perhaps, far more than I should. It would be only a slight exaggeration to say that my goal in life is to outrun my mind, my memories”.

lately, I mourn things that haven’t even ended yet. I mourn the present before it’s gone.

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