Blueprint of my soul.

RMT | 25 | PH An optimistic wordsmith, made up of a haphazardly-curated collection of mannerisms who is perpetually fueled by books, coffee and all things sweet. A wanderer who lives on words and stars. I love to write and read and talk. I'm very adorkable. I have nerdgasms, and plan to intellectually jizz on your beautiful brains.

[ohpylory-blog]

Someday

Sometimes it feels like time bends around us. Like there’s enough room for the nights to pass but I’m still living in the soft colors of yesterday. It’s as if someone inserts tiny fragments of you into my heart when I sleep and I wake with the faint taste of honey-dipped memories on my lips. I’m left wondering if opening myself to the pain of love also makes space to feel joy in it again. We always talked about someday. I just didn’t know sunsets would taste like this.

[ohpylory-blog]

The unsure

There are some things we’ll never know the answer to. Things we have to be okay with not knowing. Like why some words are vacant and others hold so much power. And how there are billions of people in the world but, more than anything, all most of us want is to not feel alone. Like why it’s so hard to let things be. Let yourself be. Let everything be. And why some of us are always the same pages in others people’s books.

[ohpylory-blog]

Holes and spaces

Once in a lifetime, you meet someone who you’ll never unlove. Someone who you’ve known for a while or just recently met. Someone your heart skips or beats speedily for. Someone who brightens your day with just one message or call. Then the one thing you hope not to happen, happens. For some it’s distance, distance is the worst. You can’t make things work, it becomes a choice to trust each other or your friends when they say “they’re gonna find someone better”. Even though the other knows your the best thing that ever happened to them. Then comes the break up. You try to stay friends but feelings linger. One tries to move on but it hurts. It hurts so much you try to block the other out. At first it feels like a hole in your chest. Then you become numb, but drunk texts or calls flood in reminding you of what you once had. You remember the hugs and kisses. You remember the heart break and the tears. These memories are the best and worse thing. You smile while you sob because you miss each other. But things are different, time and your opportunity has passed. Now you must move on.

[ohpylory-blog]

You make me want to daydream

I daydream about simple things.

About ripped, paint-splattered jeans and a white tank top and holding hands at the end of the day.

About the nights that come after you’ve become fluent in choosing each other – when you laugh about how ridiculous and gritty and beautiful life is.

About Sunday morning love that’s filled with routine and brewed coffee and reading a book together.

I think of these moments and I think of you and I realize something that every cell in my body knows to be true.

This is joy.

[ohpylory-blog]

1st wave

Do our lives have a way of preparing us for the shock waves…

Are our hearts being tamed and formed for the battle ahead? One only somewhere deep within us feels, until it is too much to bear and the war is here.

Yes. I think that’s why we have favorite colors.

Why the moon brings us to tears.

And why the wildflowers urge us on.

We are preparing for what’s to come.

[ohpylory-blog]

On being human

Maybe I’m just one of those girls who needs to make mistakes in order to feel her own heartbeat.

Because I’ve learned that strength comes from the joy in being alive, not from finding answers to all the questions you collected along the way.

And that it’s okay to outgrow the person you were yesterday.

It’s okay to quietly begin to hope again.

[wnq-writers]

For I will consider paradoxes For I wonder the public jurisdiction on these contradictions: For saints of evil For demons of goodness For princes of poverty For wealthy beggars For beggars choosers For lucky losers For thinking the most and speaking the least For the sun rises in the West and sets in the East For thirsting for redemption For drowning in the fountains of eternal life For feeling numb For a blinding light For a deafening sound For being shallow deep down For the beginning of the end For the wise fool For less is more For only dead stars shine For from failure stems success For the mind uses itself to understand itself For we live to die For we die to live For life is bittersweet

Nicole DeStefano   (via wnq-writers)

[ohpylory-blog]

Questions and blanket forts

Someday I’ll sit with you in blanket forts and ask you all the important questions.

Did you look up at the sky today?

Do you think birds know how much fun they’re having?

Do you know all the ways that I love you?

And I’ll tell you the truth. That I never wanted anything more in life than I wanted you.

[ohpylory-blog]

That thin line between a miracle and a dream

After several months of constantly scrambling desperately to find whatever means of healing and therapy I could find, I took time to be alone, to be content with being still, to take a closer look at myself in the mirror. There were no epiphanies, no moments of tremendous self-actualization. If anything, I walked away from that mirror every day feeling more and more ill at ease with what I found staring blankly back at me, seeing through me, burning through me.

And then I met you.

I met someone who only needed two and a half hours and a coffee that I can share with to show me how beautiful life could be. I was not going to hide in my shortcomings and let that go. That was the point I decided it was time to better myself, to start the process of healing, love, and self-actualization for the sake of what could potentially become an incredible connection with someone, and perhaps more importantly, for my own sake.

Sometimes, new love means breaking old habits. Sometimes you find yourself more at ease in relationships defined by inconsistency, anger, irreconcilable jealousy, and neglect, simply because that is what you have grown used to over the years. You grow complacent with the misery and heartache. Most importantly, you give up on yourself. When something accessible, consistent, warm, and altogether incredible comes into the picture, sometimes the hardest step is taking a deep breath, letting go of your tattered past, and taking that risk with something new — all the while repeating to yourself, “I’m worth it, I’m worth it, I’m worth it…”

Months later, I’m continually surprised by new discoveries. I bear witness to your idiosyncrasies, and find myself falling more and more in love with you because of them. I always wake up with you who shows me more soul, quirks, ticks, true beauty every day. There are no oddities — just more pieces of you, which I embrace unconditionally.

It’s a funny thing, meeting someone who makes you uncomfortable with how intensely they look at you, how far outside your comfort zone they take you, holding your hand and loving you the entire way. Before you, I was never able to look at someone in the eye that easy and just say what was really on my mind. I was never able to genuinely remain calm and collected. I could never say the words, “I’m terrified of these feelings, but I don’t want you to think that I’m leaving.  I’m not going anywhere.” When you say those words — and truly mean them — that’s when you know that you’ve found something worth loving, worth bettering yourself for, worth fighting for.

I’ve found something worth waking up to everyday, simply because I owe it to the ones I love — and most importantly, myself — to embrace change.

[books-n-quotes]

I don’t pretend to be wise, but I am observing, and I see a great deal more than you’d imagine. I’m interested in other people’s experiences and inconsistencies, and…I remember and use them for my own benefit.

Louisa May Alcott, Little Women (via books-n-quotes)

[poems-and-words]

[nathanielstuart]

Sleep is good and books are better.

George R.R. Martin (via fawun)

[ohpylory-blog]

Goodbye

Goodbye. A painful word. One word that could actually makes you numb. One word that could actually makes you angry. But how do I do this? How do I say goodbye to you? Give you a tight hug? Say thank you? Reminisce all our memories together, be happy and cry as I walk away from you? Write you a letter? Dedicate a song to you? How can you say goodbye to someone who means so much happiness to you? How do you say goodbye to someone who gave you all the butterflies in your tummy and laughter on your lips? How do you say goodbye to someone who said goodbye to you first? I suck at goodbyes. I don't know how to say goodbye especially with you. Can I give you silence instead? Can I give you space? Can I give you days, weeks, and months without me? I can only give you silence and a heavy heart as I walk away. Goodbye love.

[ohpylory-blog]

Coffee nostalgia

And when the last drop of fresh brew fell into the cup, and the steam whirled the smooth tones of Espresso through the air, everything came back. From the first sip to the last, a thousand little moments trickled their way back through my veins.

I remember sitting in that shop on the corner, maybe it was in Madge, maybe it was Coffeebreak. it didn’t matter either way with new friends on both sides. We didn’t need to say much. We all knew. All knew that this was something special. Something worth remembering.

Just like every other little coffee shop I found myself in.

I remember walking into every place that remotely looked like it sold coffee, just to say I had been to them all. I remember scoping out every corner, hoping nobody noticed the jolt of excitement I got over little things like handmade mugs, comfy couches, hidden booths, old bookcases, re-purposed picnic tables, prayer walls, and silly little coffee quips. Dreaming of first dates, new friends, secret handshakes, and kick but pacts that had budded in these places. Maybe those old chairs and tables held more than coffee mugs and books; I bet they could share grief and love to tell a thousand stories. Watching lives unfold;  they were changing right before me, facing some of their greatest struggles and triumphs, but it didn’t show. That’s the beauty. I didn’t need to know their life story, I didn’t need to see their demons, I didn’t need to know their darkness, because all I saw was fresh life and possibility in that moment. New friends, first looks, and not so secret blushing. I wondered what their stories were. Who were they, where had they come from, what had they faced. Were they just passing through like me, or were they digging roots in? Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe, like me, they came in to try and figure it all out. Maybe they were wayward sons and daughters who wanted to be as free as the wind, yet as full as the ocean. Whoever they were, I remember them. I remember them because just like me, they were there for something that would make a memory brew. I remember these moments. I don’t remember what day it was or what the name of the shops were. But I remember these moments. These people that passed, these questions that I asked. I remember those. Those are the memories that stir back through this third cup of coffee. Those are the moments I want to go back to. Those faces and lives I only got to glimpse, I wonder if they feel the same. The little memories locked tight in unknown coffee shops, hidden in quiet whispers and heartfelt glances. The stolen smiles, and tears held back. It was all there, swirling around in my favorite thermal mug. None of the memories were complete, and none of the pieces fit together perfectly, but they were all there, and they were all worth remembering. I think this is the beauty of something strong and bold like coffee. Something so simple, yet powerful enough to bring us back to a completely different moment. Something so daring as to take a thousand little moments and bring them to one. Giving us freedom to just sit and be, to just sit and watch. Giving us the possibility to watch a hundred lives go by and only see possibility and hope. Maybe I’m just a little too nostalgic for a Wednesday evening. Maybe.

[calmh]

[kushandwizdom]

Be brave and take risks. Nothing can substitute experience.

HighConscious_ (via kushandwizdom)

[tenwordstory]

the last words are always the hardest always the most painful, it’s the breaking point. you either break it  or it breaks you.

the goodbyes (254 out of 365)