you are asleep and i am awake thinking of you
I want to hold you, hug you, and be with you until I fall asleep. And I want to wake up with your sweet smile and warm kisses, lying next to you.
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izzy's playlists!
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if i look back, i am lost

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@lianpascual
you are asleep and i am awake thinking of you
I want to hold you, hug you, and be with you until I fall asleep. And I want to wake up with your sweet smile and warm kisses, lying next to you.
I am everything she's not and more and if you don't see that, it's not my problem anymore. Maybe you don't deserve me after all.
the studious reader: reads in coffe shops and at the library, drinks lots of lattes, takes the best pictures, lives for the aesthetic, blankets and cozy outfits and candles are a priority no matter the place and time of year or day, probably a literature student or in a social sciences field, tabs, comes up with the weirdest and most detailed theories
the chaotic reader: reads four books at once, regularly forgets characters’ names, crazy reading habits, reads mostly late at night or for unhealthy stretches of time, eats snacks or bites nails while reading, had an intense reading phase around the year 2014 and feels very nostalgic about that, passionate and outspoken
the summer reader: reads outside, wears sunglasses and sits directly on the ground to read, plays with sand or grass while reading, gets bored if the story is stalling or running in circles but otherwise gets easily lost in a book, likes a sweet drink or a nice cup of tea, unapologetically reads bad chick lits, plot over prose, tropes are friends
the addicted reader: reads on the bus in bed on a chair in class at work in the bath whilst walking, would read in their sleep, wears headphones to impede social interactions, owns the largest and most eclectic collection of books, refuses to think about the library of alexandria, picky and generally hard to please, likes to keep their favorite copies freakishly clean
Chaotic reader 🙋🏻♀️
I know, you love her —but can she elaborate how your smile gives light to the dark tunnel, how perfect the freckles on your face because you are perfectly made with them, how your eyes tells stories everytime you laugh, how your hair moves along with the wind as you walk, how perfect the sound of your voice is and how your gaze can melt someone’s heart?
I know you love her —but can she write you as a metaphor and can she create poems and lyrics about how you met? Can she extrapolate the memories you shared together? Can she handle you when your devils started knocking you off and when hope can not be seen in your eyes? Will she be able to calm your raging heart when you decided to turn your back to the world and face your problems alone? Will she be able to stay even if you will ask her to leave you? Will she be able to see how beautiful it is to love you even when the heart is tired and the sun has set for the both of you?
I know, you love her — and no matter how I try to be the girl who you can only look at, trying is all I could ever do. Even if I am willing to embrace you in your brokenness and victories, even if I write poetry about how I feel for you or try my best to be the one you needed in your lonely and miserable nights,
— you can never reciprocate the love I have for you because I am not her and I will never be her.
But she can not love you just as much as I do,
and not even close.
—🥀j.a
You can fast forward a parade by running in the opposite direction.
I am glad to have met you.
reblog for good things to happen to you
the universe will listen
I badly need some miracle in my life.
Of All The Ways That I Loved Him.
I loved him like it was wrong. With tears down my cheeks and sleep deprivation. With my hands shaking and my voice cracked and the why’s piling up inside me.
I loved him like it was a secret. With me hiding a truth that everyone already knew. With whispers and late night posts and I can’t take it anymore! screamed into the pillow.
I loved him like it wasn’t important. With lies straight to his face and fake nonchalance. With his girlfriend always in my mind so I wouldn’t forget again that it wasn’t me.
I loved him like he loved me too. With hope curling my toes when he put his arm aroung my waist and butterflies in my stomach when he looked at me and smiled. With a sense of belonging that was nothing but delusion.
I loved him like it was a tragedy. With my chance of telling him taken away from me and his rejection plastered all over my body. With goodbye’s over texts and suppressed I love you’s and I miss you but I shouldn’t and why can’t I tell you this?
I loved him like it was the only option that I had. And I guess, after all, that it really was.
I hope someday...
“You are a mystery and I’m fascinated By you to the point of madness. There’s so much that doesn’t make sense About you, so much that keeps me wondering. But there’s one question that particularly Torments me, that makes me feel like I’m bursting At the seams of my limited knowledge of you And that is how you can be so blind when My heart forces me to notice everything. I look at the people in the street and wonder What their story is. There’s a businessman walking Aimlessly at 11 on a Tuesday morning and I wonder Why his tie is so loose, why he seems like he has Nowhere important to be. There’s a shivering girl Holding on to her too thin black scarf. Her gait is quick, but suddenly she pauses A vivid smile invades her face and she lets it warm Her body. One moment later she’s gone, Dark green coat and tapping high heels. I become involved in stories I don’t belong to. When l see them, their sorrows become mine. And so do their hopes And their fears. Why don’t you See them, too? Why don’t you see me? I’m being so loud, just to get a word out of you, every Drop of attention you’re willing to pay to me. Tonight, I got in bed at 8.30 without taking off My bracelets and my lips still a fading bruised red. Tonight, instead of wondering for the thousandth time Why you still don’t know that I’m in love with you I asked myself for the first time why you know And still ignore it. And so does everyone else. They ask me why I keep waiting for you And it took me a long time to realize that I’m still waiting because the empty hope of you coming back Is still better than the certainty that no one else Will come my way. Oh, the tenderness my heart feels For you. The ease with which I’d take you back, every time. At the end of the day, the biggest problem is that I’m still doing everything in the hope of running into you. I know where you are. I know what your door looks like. I know exactly how many steps, how many times I’d have to Turn right to knock on it. But you know I’d never dare So I linger in your backyard, hoping you’ll come out For a midnight stroll and see me waiting for you. Life is laughing at me and keeps you well hidden. Perhaps that’s been your wish all along and she’s simply Granting it. Or perhaps she’s making fun of you, too. But then again if she was, you would’ve got out of Her grasp and come looking for me a long time ago. Is this love? Can mine be called love even if it won’t ever Reach you? Maybe it can’t. Maybe there’s a book Where people with a broken heart get their name Registered and they would probably laugh at me For how easily I’m letting you go. It’s not that easy though and the only way I’ve found To explain it is that I’ve dyed my hair of the colour That blinds me whenever I think of you. A shade of red so searing that I have to close my eyes Not to burn with the force of it until all that I see Is you again. Admitting you don’t love me has a lot to do With forgetting the sound of how my name tasted On your lips and how they used to curve into a Gracious line whenever your eyes fell on me. But that’s all gone now and I had to somehow Teach myself how to get up and live with it every day. You see, we are not responsible for the love We are not given and the sorrow that comes from it, But we are for the one we discard without So much as a second scruple. I always wish for you to miss me and that is hardly Going to change, but I’m an undesired option And eventually even the stem of the Proudest flower bends under the weight Of its own withered vermilion petals.”
— M.B, Undesired option
Never assume that someone likes you by their sweetness. Sometimes, you’re just an option when they’re bored.
“You make lists in your head about what you want in a lover, like brown hair and a sweet voice. A sharp mind and a soft heart, a sense of humor that actually makes you laugh like you mean it. This and that. And it’s all bullshit. Because people aren’t lists. And I’ve always wanted to be the person who made someone realize that. I want to come across someone with a list in their head that is nothing like the person I am, and I want to show them what they didn’t even know they were looking for. People who think they know what they want are fooling themselves. Nobody really knows what they want. Not until it’s right in front of them.”
— Anonymous (via suspend)
“Nothing can wear you out like caring about people.”
— S.E. Hinton, That Was Then, This is Now
If you don’t drink alcohol because you have recovered from alcoholism you’re admired, but if you don’t drink and never have, you’re weird.
But institutional racism is imaginary, right?
Watch.
never stop reblogging this
They say it takes two to tango and you and I are dancing a dangerous rhythm even when we both know it's not right.