#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

[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

[escapistloner]

You need to put your pain on paper, you need to bleed through ink..!!

Muhammad Ali

[enchant-life]

Im a little embarrased that i have to admit that i am 17 turning 18 and im still dealing with...all this. How to properly put in words things as vague as emotions, struggles and thoughts? Insecurities and voices in my head, feeling like an outcast and feeling like you deserve to be alone but yet yearning to fit in. Wishing i was more interresting or fun to be around,

To get over insecurities. Simply forget about everything and learn to love yourself, accept yourself they say. Everyone deals with things differently but honestly my insecurities have taken control of my life so early on that evrything that i am is linked to them. They are not an " excuse for me to use when i dont wanna try". They are not as shallow as excuses. They are real. Like the blood in my veins they are my life, pumped into every part of my life. To avoid shopping trips because i disnt want to go through the pain of seeing others fit in everything and anything when i struggle to fins a size, to twitcht and pull down my shirt to hide my "fat", to avoid taking pictures with girls so that i wont have to go through the pain of looking at them later and hating how i am the fat and ugly oone in the bunch. Not wanting to paricipate in learning how to ddo back flips because i didnt want to be lifted and let people know how heavy i am. Its heartwrenching when i try to open up and try to explain to people how i feel and in return i am told things like your just making excuses. They are not. They are the reason i act the way i do and they are the reason i cry at night. You dont cry for excuses.

When i say fit in, many tell me, you dont fit in you make your place but fitting in is not about being similar to a group of people and being apart of the group, its about being accepted for who you are and being apart of that group for that reason.

If you want to be interresting , let loose and enjoy yourself, talk to people i was told. Easier said then done when you are outgoing and love being around people. When your at least confident about one thing. Some dont understand that "interresting" is subjective. when i say im not fun, i get told its because i dont try well its ironic how i should "try" to be someone i am not when i was just told to make my place for who i am..

I am a failure, says the voice in my head. I am not good enough. Everything i love, want and aspire, my interrest, in everything i am good at nothing. Yes i love animals and i want to work with them but am i ever going to be able to do so? Am i good enough to get in to my program? So far i was told i am not. I love xrawing but am i great? No. Practice they say. If only practice can give you originality, if only practice can give you inspiration...

Maybe i jave the potential if i studied, i i worked hard. But i wonder how, how do i work hard and study when im working verh hard trying to convince myself life is worth living? When everyday, every hour is about how to survive. When does your mind have time to study? How to you get yourself to try when everything just feels blank. When you feel like doing nothing. Its not the type of doing nothing where one is lazy. Itz the type whwmdre you feel lime doing nothing because you cant bring yourself to. You can seem to motivatw yourself to even live, let alone do something.

Selfish... a word that has been echoing in my entire being for hours, months, years. Why is it selfish to want to survive..? Why is it selfish to put yourself before another? Why is it selfish to want to be happy? To be free of pain? Or simply numb to these thoughts?

Sometimes i make up stories in my mind where i am the min character, where i have a totaly different life, where i go through horrible things because uncounsciouly i try to relieve my pain through these stories. Trying to convince myself i could be feeling this pain instead. Sometimes this alter ego is like a sepwrated twin, someone that understands my feelings but has a different life.

Tumblr is kind of like my diary of sorts. I know some people see what i write but thats what makes this "diary" seem alive. I hope no one real reads this because its very personal but at the same time i dont mind because tumblr feels like a safe place where nothing is taken out of the site. I dont feel the need to talk to peopel bout his because ive tried explaining but all i ever get are anwsers that ztab me right in the heart.  Anwsers that hurt so much because its so full of misunderstandings and judgement. Even if i write a millions pages i would still be unable to properly explain all that drowns me inside.

Just a random thought before i sign out, the sentence structure and the grammar of this whole post is a travestie really.  Disasterous. But thats the beauty of a late night note right? Nothing is revised, nothing is thougth twice, only written down as soon as it passes the mind.

Well until next time.

Note to nothing, who haunts my days.

-from yours truly, a broken and misunderstood soul