Necromancer @necrotish-blog - Tumblr Blog

#{ Bloodied Hands ( Aesthetic ) }#{ Outstretched Hands ( Queue ) }

#{ Personality ( Closet ) }#{ Outstretched Hands ( Queue ) }

I wonder, when you pictured the one that you would someday love, did my description match anything you first thought about? Did you picture a boy that was five foot five with no growth spurt in sight? Did you picture a boy with a crooked smile, a boy that delighted more in books and sleep than sports and reality? Did you picture a boy whose happiest moments were when he had a pen in his hand, or a drumstick of the instrumental sort, and want to be added to that list? Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t, but I guess that doesn’t matter now because you still chose me. I guess I should apologize to you. I apologize for the cracks in my heart that I’ll be spending time mending. I apologize for how difficult it’ll be on some days to get me to unhinge my jaw and explain my problems. I apologize for my shortcomings, the stupid fights we’ll have and the countless ways I’ll make you question why you ever decided to be with me, but I’ll never apologize for loving you. I will never apologize for letting you in. I imagine that being with you will be like observing a 24 hour night sky. There will be starlight in your skin, and your smile will be the only crescent moon I’d want to see all day long and I know that whenever I see it, my heart will jump rope just like Corbin Bleu did in Jump In, certainly better than I ever could during gym. I hope I’m not coming off too strong. You see, I have a tendency to painstakingly revise everything I say and do and the fact that you will be the one thing I will constantly go back to not to rethink, but to simply relive over and over again makes me feel like I have to make a good impression, even now when I don’t know who you’ll be. Maybe we’ve already met. Maybe you were in front of me on one of the countless Chipotle lines I joined this past summer. Maybe you were at my college’s new student orientation, mesmerized by the way that one kid played the piano just like I was. Regardless, I hope that by the time we meet, I’ll be deserving enough to have my name be one of your favorite songs. I hope that my voice will be a little less quiet and a little more soothing but most of all, I hope that by the time we meet, I’ll be a better man.

Maxwell Diawuoh, “An Honest Love Letter For Whoever You Are” (via wnq-writers)

#{ Always There ( Davey & Sam ) }#{ Outstretched Hands ( Queue ) }