you don't know but withered plants can also look beautiful
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seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Philippines
seen from United States

seen from Syria
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seen from Philippines
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you don't know but withered plants can also look beautiful
Go forth, without me. I know we shared feelings for each other, but I don’t want to hold you back.
If you haven’t already done so, please check out my website. This piece is probably my favorite out of everything I posted on my website. Read it, share it, reblog this post: again, get the word out.
You guys are incredible! Everyday I am just so grateful to have the opportunity to share my innermost thoughts and desires with such amazing people.
~ j. grey
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Love n things
“My first experience with real love didn’t come from a romantic situation it came from my best, my second mom (she hates it when I call her that), my accountability partner in this life. she was the first person who didn’t have to say it out loud but I knew she meant it she took me under her wing and stuck with me when I had nothing and no one. Shit she barely had anything and at the time was going through her own struggle but still was like nope nope nope you coming home with me. That was my first tour of duty at the home for wayward children. But it wasn’t until my second tour of duty I really started to understand what I had in her, I had family I had a core something to bounce back on. Someone in my life that no matter what it was I could turn to her and she will put it in boxes and the boxes in their right places “
I remember it so vividly, yet everything is a blur. I woke to banging on the windows and doors. I thought it was HER so I didn’t answer. Instead, I laid there quietly waiting for it to stop. I rolled over and clutched my pillow. A few seconds passed before the screaming began. I heard my name, my birth name. I knew it wasn’t her and I knew it was serious. I jumped down from my bed and walked into the living room. It was glaring with red from the fire trucks and ambulances. I was certain my parents house was on fire. I opened the door, still half asleep to my mother screaming. “Dads dead.” Everything stopped and I couldn’t see, but I could. I remember my mother dragging me down the stairs, across the alley. I was in a white tank top with pink booty shorts and no bra. My feet were bloody, although I didn’t realize it until hours later after the shock had worn off. I blacked out and the next thing I remember was being back in my kitchen, chugging a bottle of rum. Bloody footprints down the sidewalk and throughout my house. I walked back into my bedroom and she asked what was going on. I told her I needed pants and she asked again. Before I knew it I let out this gut wrenching cry, one I’d never made before regardless of the heartbreak. “My dads dead.” I fell to the floor by my closet and slid down the door. She remained calm and asked what pants I wanted. She helped me up and I put them on. I proceeded to pace the living room, looking for my boots. They had to be the grey ones. Almost two weeks exactly after my 28th birthday. I asked her to get me a carton of cigarettes and continued looking for my grey boots. I found them and put them on but I couldn’t remember if I gave her my debit or credit card and so I asked which I’d given her. She looked at me with a look I’d never seen before. She asked how I could be so calm. I told her that’s just how I am. She left and I walked to the freezer again for my bottle of rum, gagging as I chugged it down. I grabbed a beer and walked back to my parents house. I stood outside and finished my cigarette. The paramedics told my mother there was “a little girl” standing outside. She opened the door and told me to come in, my cigarette was still lit but she didn’t care. I put it out anyway because I wasn’t going to disrespect her house like that. I didn’t know they hadn’t removed the body yet. I walked in the door only to come face to face with your body. Only a sheet covered your face, your foot resting on the side table in the air. I knew it was real, but I didn’t. I laid on your chest and held your hand till they took you away. It was shortly after 5am when this all began but before I knew it the sun was completely out. They couldn’t remove your body like they normally would because the house was too cluttered so a team of 4 had to go inside and lift you to the gurney With a sheet under you. The sidewalk was uneven and the gurney almost fell over with you on it. Everyone kept driving by slowly, staring. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I felt like I was on a bad trip. Everything moved so fast, yet slow and the faces blurred into the background. Last night my mother knocked on my windows and doors. She was being silly, but I froze. It is common for people to come to my house at random hours of the night and I never hesitated to answer it. Something about this froze me in my tracks and I couldn’t move. Eventually my friend answered the door and we found out it wasn’t anything serious but all I could hear was the pounding and screaming. It was the same knock I heard that morning. Now I can’t sleep because all I can see is your leg propped upon the air and the sheet coving your body. You hands ice cold and fading to black. I can’t accept that you’re gone. I don’t know how to live with this daddy...please come back home...
She loved it when he smiled. She loved it when he laughed. She loved it when he spoke because that meant she could hear his thoughts. But she couldn't love him enough to bring out his spark.
I hate when people say feelings are temporary. How is that true? Can you justify? How can feelings be temporary when you really love someone who doesn't love you back? How can feelings be temporary when you can't let go? How can feelings be temporary when I still think about you? How can feelings be temporary when I still love you after you left? How can feelings be temporary when I will take you back 10 years from now? How in hell is feelings temporary when they never really go away.
Stuck-in-his-gaze- my feelings for him will be permanent.
Memories
I see your face in my mind, but I don’t remember it vividly anymore. I can’t picture every detail. I guess that’s what happens when you go from seeing someone every single day, to abruptly not at all. I remember why I stopped wanting to see it all the time. I remember how your eyes stopped wanting me the way I desperately wanted you towards the end. I remember how you stopped holding me close and eventually just let me go. But then, I remember how our hands fit so perfectly. I remember how your laugh became my music in my darkest times. I remember how you held me in those early nights and how you kissed me till I couldn’t breath. I remember loving you, and then hating you. And then both at once.
I don’t know which is worse to remember.
Night after night, it always ended the same way -- hours wasted with thoughts of inadequacy, thoughts of folly. "I'm not done being single." Those words echoed in his mind over and over driving him to a state of lunacy. What he failed to realize was that she was nothing more than a female iteration of himself -- down to the dumb little things that only seemed to make them laugh. However, there was one crucial difference; she was one year younger -- one less year than he had to mature. Would he have been done "being single" a year ago? The answer was no. There was no point to dwelling on it any longer; they were both at different parts in their lives. Nothing could change that.
Excerpts from my Life