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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
tannertan36
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@thetypicalmoonchild
And he doesn’t think he will ever forget.
The first time her dark brown eyes met with his.
He would have never imagined it would have amounted to him as much as it did, but it did.
And now that they’re apart it stays with him like a piece he is not willing to let go of.
He won’t let go of.
But if i had the chance to be with you again, even if it was just for a day, I would take it.
I would take it in a heartbeat, just to hear the love in your voice and be by your side.
You might not know this, but it’s true.
I’ve always believed a person’s significance to you should be not by how long they last, or where they sit on the timeline, but how captivating and genuine your time with them was.
You mightn’t be my final love,
but between us,
you’ll always be my favourite one.
She told me once there was something beautiful waiting for me, something that’ll restore my faith in life.
I’ve found it.
It’s her.
I don’t care that you got into drugs for three months straight, or how much sleep you lost in that period. I don’t care that you went home and fucked that person and woke up at 6am hating everything about yourself, or that you smoked so much you sounded as though your lungs were giving out.
You’re not a bad person for the ways you tried to kill your sadness.
You’re just human, and being human means you need to survive and you do whichever way you deem fit, fuck everyone else.
She didn’t had to do anything to make him fall for her.
He didn’t fall for her because of what she could or couldn’t do for him.
He fell for her simply because she was unapologetically herself. He fell for her beautiful soul and big heart.
He loved her for everything she was and everything she wasn’t.
She was so perfectly flawed, so perfectly herself.
He told her that he didn’t believe in anything.
She told him that wasn’t true, everyone believes in something whether it be god or happiness or love or the the promise of death to consume us and relieve us of the curse we like to call life.
He smiled and walked away with tears in his eyes.
He didn’t understand how she could believe in something so good, she didn’t understand how he could believe in something so empty.
Maybe that is why they ultimately failed.
She was awfully sentimental.
Of books, belongings, people, places.
It mattered very little how positive or negative the experience was.
If it shared some meaningful time in her life, she’d have trouble letting go.
She sounded like she was about to cry. But then i heard her take a breath. Then she changed the subject.
I began to notice she always did that.
When something hurt, well, she just changed the subject.
The thing no one tells you about surviving, about the mere act of holding out, is how many hours are nothing because nothing happens. They also don’t tell you how you can share your deepest secrets with someone, kiss them, and the next hour it’s like there’s nothing because not everything can mean something all the time or you’d be crushed under the weight of it. They don’t tell you how you will float through days.
You autopilot, here but not really here, sleepwalking, and then every so often you are awake.
There he was looking at her in a way no one had ever, Her hands were shaking as she explained her knotted past.
She will not always be easy to hold onto, for her heart is scattered with thorns.
Some nights she will be quiet and he won’t know how to pull her from her weeded mind.
Some night she’ll forget what he sees in her and lose her balance.
Some night she’ll trip over her own feet and apologize for the mess she made.
On those nights the one thing that will drag her out of her own labyrinth is that look.
No one has ever looked ar her quite like that.
“her hand in mine, and in my chest a garden…” (saadi youssef)
Clarice Lispector, The Passion According to G.H.
Bright Star, dir. Jane Campion
Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Ingeborg Bachmann, “Word for Word”
Simone Weil, “Detachment” (trans. Emma Craufurd), Simone Weil: An Anthology
[Text ID: “Love is not consolation, it is light.”]
“The love in her is hidden, like the fire of the wind and the water.”
— siir-poesia ©
