moon yesterday walking me home
almost home
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@theparistimes
moon yesterday walking me home
āSometimes I scoff at the idiom of soulmates, other times I feel it is the reason I hold onto life. To someday feel whatever the first two people felt when they called themselves soulmates. What prompted the first two people to look at their love and call it a soul connection, to look at their love beyond the physical, to rationalize their love as being created and brought to them by metaphysical forces. To think of something so special, so unique, that bringing the laws of the universe into equation is the only thing that can satisfy you. To fathom love as being much larger than you and me.ā
ā my journal entries (via theparistimes)
Why have one tiny desk when I can have two
Three nights, four days
Part of a book I'm writing, sometimes love seems bigger than all of us and sometimes it feels small.
She walked to the city street as she lit up a cigarette, letting it dangle from her shaky fingers.Ā
He could be on his way home now,Ā she thought,Ā would he be mad? Of course he would.Ā There was no going back. All the times she had thought about this moment, one time she even packed her bags but could not muster the courage to leave, and now she did. It was more scary than she thought it would be, more shaky, less relieving.Ā
Standing on the curb she hailed for a cab, she had left her phone behind. She would get a new one when she felt like interacting with the outside world again, for now she felt too betrayed, frail, cheated. She had always been an independent woman, never needing outside comfort or support, she was self-sufficient. This self-sufficiency led her towards a lot of successes, she was hard-headed and determined in her professional life. A failed relationship stings deep and to her, someone who had never been deliberate in the search for romance, it stung like alcohol on an open wound. For as hard-headed and focused as she was in her professional life, none of it showed in her relationship. As far as she was concerned, she had been reduced to an impotent woman. With that thought twirling around in the chaos that was her mind, she stepped in the back of the cab that had pulled over for her.Ā
āAt the moment when desire ceases and contemplation, pure seeing, and self-surrender begin, everything changes. Man ceases to be useful or dangerous, interesting or boring, genial or rude, strong or weak. He becomes nature, he becomes beautiful and remarkable as does everything that is an object of clear contemplation. For indeed contemplation is not scrutiny or criticism, it is nothing but love. It is the highest and most desirable state of our souls: undemanding love.ā
ā Hermann Hesse, My Belief: Essays on Life and Art
āIt is a common sentence that knowledge is power; but who hath duly considered or set forth the power of ignorance? Knowledge slowly builds up what ignorance in an hour pulls down.ā
ā George Eliot, Daniel Deronda
Three nights, four days
Part of a book I'm writing, sometimes love seems bigger than all of us and sometimes it feels small.
She opened the cardboard box her boyfriend, now fiancĆ© , had handed her over dinner and took another close look at the ring. It was a beautiful gold band with a line of small square diamonds on top. Engraved with the wordĀ apricusĀ (the Latin word meaning "full of sunshine" held special significance to her because of the nickname her late grandfather had given her)Ā and presented in a black rose-shapedĀ box,Ā he had been so thoughtfulĀ she thought.Ā
She noticed him looking at her with watery eyes when she was sipping the last of her red wine chatting about her coworker whose cat had wandered off again "see, I believe that it is unethical to keep animals who are naturally wanderers locked inside" she had said "the thing clearly wants out" and off she was on her passionate rant when he grabbed both of her hands gently, his eyes catching hers. The look in his eyes enough to silence her, she had seen this coming, he was not good at keeping secrets. In that split second she thought about her future with him, the house they would live in, the kids they would raise, and in that split second it all seemed plausible.Ā That could just be the wine talkingĀ she thoughtĀ but would it really be so bad for me to accept things as they areĀ her dad always told her to manage her expectations,Ā dreams are just thatĀ she could hear him god she had one drink too many.
āI wonder if everyone feels this way, this undeniable emptiness inside them. When I was younger, it would creep up on Sunday evenings, a dispiritedness. Now I feel it everyday, from the minute I wake up until I rest my eyes again. The sun seems to move across the sky, and the clock tells me that time is still passing, but there is nothing in me that can confirm this. For all I know, the clock and the sun are in it to fool me. Their passing could just be a play, orchestrated to make me think that it is only me who feels this way.ā
ā my journal entries
For all I know, the clock and the sun are in it to fool me.
The sheer romanticism of being unknown, of coming into peopleās lives seemingly out of nowhere and leaving the exact same way, of saying or doing something with someone that you know you will never see or hear from again and then helping someone expecting nothing in return, of only existing in vague memories people have as that person that did that or said this.Ā
Before I start rambling, this post is one of my favourites and I stand by every word of it, at least the good side of it. These past few years I have had some sort of complex where I would have preferred to be with people for short periods of time, and I still do. That is also the reason I wrote this post, and I did not think this many people could relate to it and it made me a little sad. What has led me, personally, to this point is the amount of times I have gotten close to someone, and how much I enjoyed being with and around that person, only to be pushed away once they had had enough. There is nothing wrong with that, no one owes me anything, deciding that maybe you do not want to be friends with someone anymore is not something you have to explain, but I am saying all of this to say that it is worth it. Getting close to someone, putting the possibility of getting hurt on the back burner to be with someone, even if it is just for a little bit, is worth every second of it. Allow people in, let yourself be known, and most importantly do not forget that vulnerability does not equal weakness.Ā
Chaos is about the loudest thing ive heard. Maybe chaos isnt the right word but when something unexpected happens, usually a tragic event. Theres some loud noises that you will never notice otherwise. The way you make yourself a cup of coffee before driving down to see a loved one, or the way your car ticks when you signal right, the way you notice the number of stuffy noses or dry coughs in the elevator up, the sound of fabric once you take off your jacket to leave it on your chair. Suspense and a touch of unexpectedness.
lines that hit different
((There is no one way to be a mushroom. Have you seen how fucked up they are? How god-ignorant and wild? Listen to the mushroom wisdom. Do whatever stirs your soul. (@moami)
We could just kiss, like real people do (like real people do - Hozier)
Youāll always be my favourite ghost (Big God - Florence + The Machine)
Food, sex, and death are the three great mediators of human experience. (@givemearmstopraywith)
Girls donāt have empty fields to run to anymore and somewhere deep inside they know that they are missing something vital, and they spend their lives looking for it. (@outpastthemoat)
[The] place between hopeless romantic and strong independent individual (@theparistimes)
If you want gardens, become the gardener. (Victoria Erickson)
If you arenāt dead, youāve got time.
The human urge to tell a story spans centuries and millennia. (@keuhkopussirotta)
Effort is the most attractive thing someone could give you
Letās weaponize comfortĀ (The world told me to hate myself; I realized the greatest act of rebellion was to love myself) (@feenyxblue)
Career goal:Ā teeny sparrow drinking from a puddle after a storm (@plasticlove1984)
But poetry. Romance. Love. These are what we stay alive for. (Dead Poets Society)
Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you. (Welcome to Night Vale, Finknor)
Mostly void, partially stars // mostly void, partially thought (WTNV, Finknor)
Travelling is like flirting with life.Ā Itās like saying, āI would stay and love you, but I have to go; this is not my station.āĀ (Lisa St. Aubin de TerĆ”n)
It is not because menās desires are strong that they act ill; it is because their consciences are weak. (John Stuart Mill; On Liberty)
The dead know the language of flowers only, so they keep quiet (George Seferis)
Maleficent frost in witching hours (Dion Anja)
You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it (Yves Olade)
Letās shake this poet out of the beast (Mitski)
hei. i occasionally go through your entire tumblr when i want inspiration. i came across an ask someone sent about the tumblr post on the space between a hopeless romantic and a strong independent individual, written by theparistimes. i don't know if you've found that post yet, i think the ask was pretty long ago. but i had bookmarked it on instagram, so here you go - https://www.instagram.com/p/CGuuNvNjZ6l/?hl=en
just my personal take on it, i'm aroace and i could relate more to this (atleast some of it) as coming to terms with being asexual and a hopeful aromantic. idk if that makes sense but i was happy that people can relate to this post in so many ways, because in the end it's all about hoping to find love in multiple ways without losing your self-respect or desolately. i love it so much and i wish there was a book on this concept.
have a good day :)
!! oh my god you found it! thank you so much, iāve been looking for it for so long š
itās so nice to know the way you like the post. i like it because i truly enjoy being on my own and i wouldnāt change that for anything, and the post seems to be able to put it into words.
thanks again, and have a nice day!
oh, i am finally old enough to know why my parents took so long to grab their coats. why they would ask us to get ready to go only to sit down for another round of coffee. what would i tell myself, at 10 years old? itās okay. sit down with them too. take in the extra hour with your friend and her family. when you get home, write down every moment in your diary. one day you will be older and you will be waving goodbye to your best friend, and you will turn the key to start your beat up little car engine, and you will look back over your shoulder. her hair will be blowing in the wind and she will be beautiful and you will be, for a moment, struck by all of it. what you will feel is so wide and nameless that it will engulf you. and you will think of being 14 and kicking her under the table in math every time you wanted to whisper something behind the teacherās back. you will think about how long the days felt, and how you could hold her hand whenever you wished, but you didnāt. and you will think about all of the people you could have lingered with. and you will wish, more than you have ever felt a wish, that the universe just gave you that - more time to linger. more time to say - i love you. i know i need to leave, but i donāt want to leave you. and when i go, i am leaving a piece of my heart that lingers too.Ā
one more round of coffee. the days are so short, and you are so lovely.
āThe number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.ā (mikko harvey)
Three flowers in a row, bent at the neck and hanging low.Ā
One was a vibrant, burning red, much like the girl who went off and wed.Ā
The oldest a peculiar shade of teal, much like the girl who wanted to fall off the wheel.Ā
Then there was the one in between, much like the girl who was much to keen.Ā
Keeping the dead flowers close to her heart, even when they were clearly ready to part.Ā
The colour this flower had was pink, much like the girl who could not help but think
That watering the flowers would have kept them alive for at least a few hours.
Iām back and you can ask me anything
itās been a good four years since Iāve been on here and I noticed my posts are (still) getting traction for some reason, ask me or tell me anything!
Iāve been feeling inspired again so feel free to share your thoughts on what you would like to see more of as well š
@Maria Chehovskaya
https://lustingupon.tumblr.com