L.

Writings of a romanticist.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

If you don’t feel lonely in your twenties; then you’re one of the lucky ones.

Most of us feel like we’re drowning, or invisible, a ghost among others that’s unseen, unheard, clinging onto the bones of friendships that once were.

Reading books to take a break from my own life and read about someone else’s that’s for more interesting and less depressing.

I wish I found comfort in a friendship group, I wish I had a friendship group.

Me? The only comfort I find is in a cigarette and a blanket wrapped round me when I stand in the cold morning air, the trees and the darkness being the only friends I have.

So if you’re not lonely in your twenties, then you really are the lucky ones, because some of us, don’t even have someone.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

Swimming in your fishbowl

My eyes like saucers

Cigarettes come in vending machines

They don’t card at this motel

Started off as heaven

I’ve ended up in hell

I’ll climb through your broken window

Cut my arm on the ledge

Marlboro reds

Night creeping

Skinny dipping in the lake

We drove out the state

Undercover Martyr

New York was a mistake

Coffee for one

Pancakes for two

That’s all I remember

I’m scared I’m forgetting you

We were on the cusp of a dream

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

In a past life I was with you. Blurred flashbacks, too crowded streets. Wandering through New York, bare feet. You carried my shoes, I smoked Marlboro reds. Stumbling drunk, too many voices in my head.

I knew it was a long shot - but it wasn’t long enough.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

And then you'll find me, in my bathroom, spending at least 40 minutes in the shower, washing away the feeling of his hands that still remain on my skin, or in my room, in front of my dressing table, staring at my reflection wondering what it is that makes people vacate their way out of my life, wondering what is so bad about me that no one seems to stick around. You could find me in the middle of my room, lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling, listening to one of my many vinyl records. Or you could find me sitting on my window ledge, smoking the cigarettes that he used to, reminiscing on the taste of his lips that once filled my senses, or writing him into another hundred pages of my endless journals.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

I still think about him sometimes. Not in the “oh, I miss him” way of thinking, but more wondering what my life would be like if I didn’t get that flight to Washington, had I not left him in New York. If I didn’t get in that taxi, if I didn’t run out on him in the middle of the night.

7 years later and my mind shifts to him. I don’t miss him, I don’t care about him anymore, I’m no longer crippled by the loss, but sometimes I do think about him. Because when I met him, there was a version of myself I found, and then I lost just as quickly. And maybe I miss her more than I’ll ever miss him.

- Ever since New York

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

You did it again,

You did it again.

Poison ivy twisting around your neck, just like last time.

You’re shrinking,

you’re shrinking.

Disappearing, diminishing, soon you’ll be nothing. You think that’s want he wants. You’re hurting, worse than before.

You’re crumbling onto the hardwood floor, you wish the floor would just swallow you up. You think about leaving, maybe one day you will.

This road is treacherous.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

You can’t just let things go, because you’re not the one causing someone pain - he is, he’s causing you pain. So when you argue and bicker he’s always okay because you’ve never hurt him, he’s always the one hurting you. You’re always the one to go to bed with tear stung eyes and an aching heart. You’re the one that wakes up the next day with open wounds that haven’t healed yet He can forget and let go because he isn’t hurting, he hasn’t felt the pain of your knife plunging into him, because you’d never stab him. You can’t forget about the words he spits at you because there’s always truth in them, he wouldn’t say them if he didn’t mean them.

So when he comes home at 3am expecting a warm bed and heart to cuddle up to, you won’t be there - you will be this time, but as time passes and things worsen, one day, he’ll return to an empty room, vacant of any trace of you - the same way your heart will be vacant of him.

We’ll be a fine line

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

She was a bright girl. She knew what she wanted, and she knew exactly what she didn't. She was easy to know, but difficult to work out. Mature for her age, with bright - misleading eyes, filled with innocence; contrasting from the crimson red that constantly coated her lips. Sending mixed signals without even opening her mouth. A burning soul and a freezing heart - contradicting herself from inside out. She's a paradox. She's careless, but she cares all too much. A love that once filled her heart, leaves her aching and longing. A passion that consumed her, leaves her cold and distant. A smile that was once permanently etched on her face is now vacant, left hard and bitter, non existent.

I set myself on fire just to keep you warm.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

Once I lost you, I began to look for you, I’d look for you in the men I would date. I’d go for the men with messy blonde hair and sky blue eyes, but would run for the hills after realising they didn’t sound like you, they didn’t kiss like you nor did they listen like you. I started listening for you in songs: picturing the way you used to tap your thumbs against the steering wheel to the beat of the music we’d play in the car. I began to look for you in books; reliving our experience through someone else’s words and perspective. I began smoking those Marlboro cigarettes you always used to smoke, trying to be closer to you even though you were out of reach. I played our playlist everyday, on repeat, imagining we were still in your car singing along to every song. And then I started looking for you in my dreams, replaying the time we spent together over and over again, trying to chase after the memories, knowing I would never be able to replay them again. I tried everything, just to feel close to you - to feel the connection I feared I would never be able to find again.

Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

Maybe one day, I will find someone else to love, But I know it will never be a love like ours. It might fill me up with happiness - but it will never replace the love that we had. He might know me, But he won't know me the way you did, the way you do. He won't know to give me the grape flavoured candies out of the bag of Jolly ranchers - you know they were always my favourite. He won't know the way I drink my coffee; strong with that French vanilla creamer you know I loved. He won't know to squeeze my thigh when that one Ed Sheeran song plays, I always cry when that one song plays, but I didn't when you were with me. He won't know to make me a grilled cheese at barbecues - you know how much I hate grilled meat. He won't know what I'm thinking without even asking me - only you could do that. He won't be able to read me like an open book - that was your job. He won't know to push me up against walls and steal a kiss from me - that's always reserved for you. He won't know what playlist to play when we drive - that will always remain ours. He won't know me, I don't think anyone will ever know me the way you did, the way you still do.

- You were a moment in life that comes and goes.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

Please, can we be friends again?” He asked me desperately. I hesitated before answering him “…We were never friends to begin with, so how can we go back to something we never were?” He furrowed his brows and shook his head before responding. “I, I don’t understand.” I let out an exasperated breath “Friends don’t kiss each other, friends don’t have sex and most importantly friends don’t fall in love. So please, spare me. We both know that we were never “just friends” and we never will be friends.“ He responded with silence.

His silence spoke more words than he ever did.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

I fell for the lies that dripped like honey from his sugar sweet lips.

Two falling sparks, one willing fool.

[lovlae]

i just want to do everything at once, i want to travel and film all of my adventures and i want to take pictures of everything and i want to spend early mornings in airports and late evenings on rooftops and i want to drink lattes in little cafes and discover myself

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

Me, you, a bottle of jack and a pack of Marlboro - we could do it all.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

15 months later, it’s still you. It’s always going to be you, whether we’re in each other’s lives or not.

Loving you is like giving matches to a pyromaniac.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

He’s the sun, he’s warm and bright, but he’s repetitive and predictable. And he burns me. But you, you are a thunderous rain storm. You’re rare, and exciting, unpredictable and breath-taking. And I’d rather drown in you than get burned by him. You sweep me away, you appear unexpectedly and catch my breath. And I’d take getting blown off my feet than getting sun stroke any day.

You are the unforecasted storm.

[tswiftslyrics]

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

So I hope things with you are well, your page was so bright and happy. Now it looks like you're sad again? For whatever it is, I'm sorry

Happiness never lasts for long. Everything eventually fades to nothing. I thought I could replace him, turns out I can't. Thank you for noticing. I'm sorry too. I hope you're well also, whoever you are, thank you for caring x