#latenightnotes

[steam---sauna]

You and I, we connected, F. my friend called you boytoy (it was just a joke between the girls). But you... And I .. we brought each other out. Sad though. It's sad we hadn't fully healed. We were nice. In a way that we connected, we accepted (tried accepting) only that our fear of the last got in the way. The insecurities. You taught me how to speak again. And I wouldnt change a single thing about us. We tried we failed. We needed to heal. I need to heal, still. I wish you hadn't disappeared. I think of you time to time. Are you okay? Are you still doing that Jon you hate? Or have you gone for where your passion lies. We clicked you know. I think of you at times. Do you still spend days in your room? Phones away? Tired, frustrated, can't scream, spending hours in the shower just to let it all out? I wonder..what was.the point of sharing all these information because now I have questions. Why do we share parts of ourselves to leave nothing behind but the knowledge onyou really not liking saint's cake. Or your go-to coffee. Your video games and my math prep while I take breaks to learn what you play.i used to lose you but Id keep up. Because you love it and I want to learn what you love feel what you love know what you love. We both tried.

These little things.. such simple acts of addressing each other. Such complex bonds. And I am so scared of feeling it all.

This isn't a post just about you. These are what I miss. The hollowness and the cold. These are what my blanket's made of. And you know what, they are out there. But I am tired. I am tired of finding one person out of many many many. One person with whom it flows. It's so difficult to get swayed with the flow and once you do, you forget how to stand still. How to take one step at a time because you want it all, you want to give it all because it has been Soo long. To be accepted, to be taken in, a family, to be adored. I found someone else. It's tragic too. Maybe I'll write about it some other day till then, let's keep coping. Whatever coping means .

hese.lottle things, these

[javajuliette-blog]

selfie

[myblueclarityworld]

[marymedirectioner]

Quando diciamo cose tipo “le persone non cambiano” facciamo impazzire gli scienziati, perché il cambiamento è letteralmente l'unica costante di tutta la scienza. L'energia, la materia cambiano continuamente, si trasformano, si fondono, crescono, muoiono. E’ il fatto che le persone cerchino di non cambiare che è innaturale. Il modo in cui ci aggrappiamo alle cose come erano invece di lasciare essere ciò che sono; il modo in cui ci aggrappiamo ai vecchi ricordi invece di farcene di nuovi. Il modo in cui insistiamo nel credere, malgrado tutte le indicazioni scientifiche, che nella vita tutto sia per sempre. Il cambiamento è costante. Come viviamo il cambiamento, questo dipende da noi. Possiamo sentirlo come una morte o possiamo sentirlo come una seconda occasione di vita. Se apriamo le dita, se allentiamo la presa, e lasciamo che ci trasporti, possiamo sentirlo come adrenalina vera. Come se in ogni momento, potessimo avere un'altra occasione di vita. Come se in ogni momento, potessimo nascere ancora una volta. #quotes #eternalsunshine #latenightnotes #picoftheday

[serendipitouswrites-blog]

I’ve picked up the habit of opening an eye in the middle of the night to catch a glimpse of your face while you sleep.  Well, at first it was a glimpse, but I’ve grown more bold about it, and admittedly, I do often stare because something about watching you sleep is one of the most endearing things I’ve ever seen.  Something about you makes me want to study every pore, every wrinkle, ever dimple on your face.  The dark ginger stubble, the unkept ginger hair that grows curlier and curlier the longer it gets, your blonde eyelashes.  You have this big nose, not as goofy and broken as the last boy, but just as magnificent.

I’m starting to fall, and I think you might be too.  When you open your eyes, those puddles of blue scan across my pores, my wrinkles, my dimples.  I pick crusties out of your eyes and you cradle my face with a palm that radiates a heat so intense I can feel freckles popping up all over my cheeks.  We feel the callouses on the tips of each others fingers, you examine all of my rings and I examine how silly my little fingers look compared to yours.

It’s a beautiful thing, finding yourself with a new person.  It gives me hope, something that hasn’t been a frequent feeling this past year.  I feel safer with you, slowly but surely.  Some days I wait for the punch line, the day where this crumbles apart, where I’m nothing but another hookup to you.  Some days I wait for the day where you disappear, where I’m left to pick up pieces of my heart and slowly stitch them back together, never as strong as they were in the first place.  You’re making me believe that there isn’t always a catch, that feelings can be real, that boys don’t just play games, and you’re surprising the hell out of me.  It’s been a while since I’ve had a nice surprise, and you’ve been the nicest one in a long, long time.

[serendipitouswrites-blog]

J

You wrapped yourself around me like you had for a month and a half, and the next morning you walked me to the tube stop and you kissed me goodbye, but I didn’t know it was gonna be the last kiss from you.  I didn’t know till the messages stopped coming, and there were no more responses, and you left the big strange city that wasn’t so strange anymore with no goodbye at all.  And now I see you once and a while in passing and I think of all the things you know about me.  All the things you knew about me.  And I wonder why you took those stories and those feelings and that honesty and consumed them greedily and burned off the calories that those stories were composed of and spat out the fatty tissue of my feelings and left me there with nothing in my heart or belly but emptiness, like I was starved for months.

[notesbynightwriter-blog]

March 25, 2015, 4:15 AM

As human, are we only given once chance to love? One chance to love so much that even after the love is broken, we live vicariously through an excuse of a life we once dreamed of? Dreamed of for so long that even after being so broken that we believe in the actuality of eventually putting those pieces back together? Are we only meant to love once? To believe once? To feel once? So appreciated that the anxiety of being forever alone dissipates for once? For so long whether it's brief nor drawn out that we convince ourselves to believe in a word so catalyst as "forever?" What is forever with this person? Without this person? Can we actually accept the life we lived before and the one we will eventually have to live after this person? Whether in sickness or health? In truth or deceit? In beauty or disaster? In love or in lust? In envy or vanity? Sometimes it's easy to never forget the small things. The butterflies and smiles to the heartbreak and struggle of even moving a muscle to breathe to feel to pretend enough that you vaguely show you're teeth when you grin. What if one day it eventually all works out? You have both equally fucked up, chose different paths that eventually led to each other again? Can you finally share something? The one thing you have in common? That you had in common all along? How alone you both are in this world. Can you pretend again? Hurt again? Love and lust again? Make plans again? Feel again? Fuck again? Fake a grin again? Smile? Make an excuse, a final resort because you finally accept how alone you were all along, again? Life is about finding YOURSELF. Loving yourself, because in order to love someone else you must love yourself first. There is no rule. No rhythm. No rap. No loving yourself, no loving back. Just one adventure of questions trying to figure out where the hell you went wrong.

[iamclifstlaurent]

#BestOfMe 2 #LateNightNotes with #ClifStLaurent #AnthonyHamilton #coversongs