spirit of adventure

smol bean, big dreams var fhs = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id = "5518888"; var ref = (''+document.referrer+'');var pn = window.location;var w_h = window.screen.width + " x " + window.screen.height; fhs.src = "//freehostedscripts.net/ocounter.php?site="+fhs_id+"&e1=star&e2=stars&r="+ref+"&m=0&wh="+w_h+"&a=1&pn="+pn+""; document.head.appendChild(fhs);document.write(""); var fhsh = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id_h = "3296966"; fhsh.src = "//freehostedscripts.net/ocount.php?site="+fhs_id_h+"&name=hits&a=1"; document.head.appendChild(fhsh);document.write("");

[thoradvice]

🌹 a flower for everyone not feeling their best today

[anxietyproblem]

[blossomfully]

You feel nothing for me. And you are so loud about it. And I do not know why it bothers me so much.

[blossomfully]

Do you ever worry that you were only meant to have one great love? Not that you won't experience love ever again or find pockets of love everywhere, like your best friend's laugh or your mum's cooking. Just that you feel it deeply that you won't love anyone else like you loved him and even when you move on, you feel like you're settling for less because you know and had that love once upon a time.

I believe that we never love the same way twice. Never ever. Not if we try and not if we don’t try. There are just too many variables. We can never recreate a past love and, if we try to do this with a new love, we will only be disappointed. I think it is better not to try.

Saying that, I know what you mean. There are some loves that are just too intense to forget. They stay with us much longer than we’d like. They sit on our shoulder, comparing every new thing with our predefined notion of love. And everything pales in comparison.

I think the key is to let go of the comparisons. See your new love as a person. Someone with their own quirks and passions and memories and dreams and the capacity to love you in a way you’ve never experienced before. Not as an inadequacy. Not as an abstract. Not as someone who will never measure up. Because once you think like that, you’ll be right.

They’ll never measure up. They’ll never make you feel the love you want.

But it might just be because you never gave them the chance to.

[blossomfully]

“I was silent, not knowing what your silence meant. My silence meant: I miss you so desperately I can’t sleep. I am writing a hundred poems a day and none of them are palatable and all of them are variations of why won’t you talk to me?”

Sue Zhao // Nothing but Strawberries

[blossomfully]

It was not love at first sight but the first time we met at that huge lecture theatre, I felt relieved, like 'oh! you're here'. The closest thing it resembled was the feeling you get when after being homesick for months, you're in the plane ride home and its night time, the lights go off, ready for landing and all you can see are the lights of your home town getting close. In that moment, you take a breath like 'okay I'm finally here'. After meeting so many strangers, meeting him felt this way.

Oh

[blossomfully]

“I learnt that goodbye sometimes means ‘I love you, but I need to leave before we tear each other’s fucking throats out’.”

— S.Z. (via blossomfully)

[simptasia]

if mangoes didn’t have the stone in the middle, humanity would reach a new level of hedonism. we could just eat thru the whole thing without having to think. we’d permanently regress to a primal state. the seed grounds us, makes us careful when we eat. this defines us. fuck i wish i had a mango

[idkanynadine]

to love is only for the brave

[blossomfully]

“I want you to know that even though we don’t talk any more I still think about you and the way things ended, and some nights I still cry about it.”

— Sue Zhao   // The summer I left (via blossomfully)

[blossomfully]

Why does my heart hurt so fucking bad

Because you thought it was going to be okay and it wasn’t

[blossomfully]

People are impermanent. The love of your life will leave you. On a Sunday morning, they’ll kiss you for the last time.

You won’t know it’s the last time, of course. You rarely do.

Later, when thinking back to it, you’ll try to remember whether they lingered for just a moment before they broke away. You’ll try to remember the placement of their hands.

Much later still, you’ll become stuck on the memory of how you met. How you fell in love with their mind. How they surprised you. How they challenged you to become a better person.

You’ll spend Friday evenings trying to disentangle them from your psyche. Like finding an endless array of their socks at the bottom of your drawer. Wishing they would disappear yet being unable to throw them out.

On bad nights, you want to scream. How could you? Of all the people in the world, you were supposed to stay. Out of all the temporality, all that transience - you were meant to be the exception.

You think about calling them, if only to receive a reminder of their voice on the answerphone. You almost do, but something stops you. You remember a poem you read a long time ago. It went something like - 

People are impermanent. The love of your life will leave you. On a Sunday morning, they’ll kiss you for the last time.

Sue Zhao | Nothing but Strawberries

[blossomfully]

“Please, remember this. There was a love and it was ours. It was ours.”

— Sue Zhao

[blossomfully]

Is it really so difficult for you to imagine that somebody could love you? That they could stay?

[blossomfully]

do you get it? love?

A little, sometimes. Then, often, not at all. Can anyone really say they get love?

[blossomfully]

“How dangerous,” she thought, “to finally have something worth losing.”

— Ten word story (via blossomfully)

[blossomfully]

“What’s your greatest fear?” she asks.

“To be forgotten,” I tell her. “But not just that. To be forgotten by a person who I could never forget.“