snerdling

[m0nachopsis181]

me

i find myself again. that's kinda like my super power and yet i often find myself looking for someone to find myself in

and although its what i long for at times ; someone to be in, to be myself through someone, to be a home to someone; i keep realising that i am for me i share this body and brain with myself and although there is plenty of space for me to share with someone in this vast headspace i think i would slowly suffocate with another person

but that also kinda depends on that person anyways im getting off the track here

what im trying to say here is it's very scary to sometimes to wonder whether this time i'll be able to find myself again because you see this process of lost and found is not subtle i feel all of it happening inside, and i am conscious of the things happening in me. it's like a world of its own i cant interfere, well- more precisely don't like to interfere usually because my world has a system and that system is perfectly fine i interrupt when i need to but other than that nah im good

so yea, off the point again when im venturing into the dark who knows whether i'll find the light again or whether there is any light left at all

and someday when i'm old there might be a time where i'll get to find the light for the last time

the light here, just for your context is, my happy self, me who has a smile bigger than the sun, whose eyes shine like moon at the night, whose giggles are heard by everyone in the room, and the one who keeps me as in my old dusty self going

she is my muse she is my fuel she is who i live for

yea yea i know i know what you're gonna say "seems like you're in love with yourself" ngl i am and i wish i meet myself in another person so i dont have to keep going back to find her but that's the hard part she's so rare i dont think god made another one like her so she knows that I'll stick around for her because she's irreplaceable and

i dont know what exactly is the point that im trying to make here but damn this world seems easier when im with her

[thededfa]

I think about love sometimes. About how it’s taught and seen and felt.

I think about the ‘date nights’ and flowers and cards my parents spoke of and the rigid smiles when it went wrong. I think about the vacations and gifts and parties and how much they fought. Over the kind of flower. Over the venue. Over how hot the hotel was. Over how the party was stressful. It was hard for me to see how much they loved each other over their sighs and sharp words.

I was taught to love in grand gestures, but between each showing was a cutting bitterness that I was told was love. I watched the movies and my parents and tried to learn how to love my partner with disgust between my teeth fixed into a picture perfect smile.

We tried to love like our parents taught us and it almost broke us. Accusations hissed through clenched teeth and voices raised over clenched fists as we tried, tried so hard, to love like our parents taught us. Wilting flowers tossed in the compost and dinner dates spent in silence as we ignored each other over steak.

Love like that nearly broke us, and we had to pick up the cracked bits and figure out how to love like ourselves.

Now, I think of my partner, who was taught by his parents to kill what he did not like. I think of how he instead carefully uses a cup and paper to move a spider to a different area because he knows I love spiders, and he loves me more than he hates spiders.

I think of making homemade hot pockets for my partner, because he doesn’t like to eat in the lunch room at work and I want him to have something good he can eat by himself. He smiles so softly when he sees them cooling on the counter, and he knows I love him more than I hate to cook.

I think of him buying me radish seeds because he knows I like seeds more than flowers.

I think of me moving the wasps away from his workout area because I know they scare him.

When I think of love, I think of my partner tucking an extra twenty into my wallet when he thinks I’m not looking. I think of me mending his socks because both of us hate shopping and if I fix them, he won’t have to buy more.

We buy pizza on our anniversary if we remember it. We wait till after Valentines day to buy discount chocolate. We don’t hold hands in public, instead we bump shoulders when we pass each other in public. Brief and secret and ours.

We can’t love like our parents taught us, but I think… perhaps we love like ourselves, and that’s enough.

[m0nachopsis181]

love like you

[m0nachopsis181]

she believed in fairy tales even after life showed her they're not true