Yours truly @thisdeludedwanderlust - Tumblr Blog

Our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.

Vladimir Nabokov (via cavum)

Everything feels better when the ghosts of winter settle softly on white sheets and gold fields. There is something shooting in the sky and even though you have to wait for the night to call it a star, you can wish upon a beautiful morning. You can wish upon the orange ball with its arms reaching out to you, cradling your face. You can wish upon a dream you’re working upon because you’re getting there. Every stop shows only the way forward from here. You’re full of light and sunshine, purpose and resolve. You can feel your fears ebbing away, your insecurities retreating. You catch glimpses of all the lives that could’ve been yours. You take photographs in your mind of the walls, the windows, the doors, the blues and the shadows; the glimmer of the early morning sun on charcoal gray of a tiny fraction of the snippets you’re going to see. You start to want more life and wish to go after it. A fence against a colourless sky. The shades bathed in a warm glow

The fields glimmer gold and green. Almost unreal. A blanket of mist coats your dreams, lulling you to sleep. Lulling you out of sleep. Foliage dripping with dew and laziness- like a little child opening its eyes and yawning for the first time. We all yearn to be that little child. To open our eyes to the world for the first time, to open our hearts with a guarantee of not hurting or getting hurt. But we can’t. We can’t take back the years that made us who we are. But we can go forward from here. Reinvent. Piece ourselves back together. Open our eyes to all the first times we have yet to see, open our hearts to the new cracks and tremors. Open ourselves to life.

Like the sun does every day. Maybe we will some day rise in the west. Till then, we try.

#SD #village #journeys #train rides #destination?

I drew us like chalk lines A few unmarked Some broken, some incomplete And some flawed. I could see your edges blur every time I tried to touch your sides You’d hold yourself together as you laughed I held back when I laughed And there we were on the sidewalk Fingers intertwined, a child’s hopscotch Never our own mark. Only marks here and there, lost to the sun Swallowed in the dark Here and there There and here Everywhere Blurring, swimming with the sun on the asphalt.

I drew us as chalk lines Here and there, we left our mark.

onlinecounsellingcollege

I try more and more to be myself, caring relatively little whether people approve or disapprove.

Vincent van Gogh (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

Learning how to love unconditionally is liberating. To know that you have a place in your heart that has made itself at home is a familiarity and comfort like none other. To love them in spite of their faults, your faults. To sometimes love them for the reasons that spite you. To know that you will love them long after they're gone and to revel in that love that only you have in your heart; to realize you are capable of fireworks and the warmth that follows. You love for yourself, to build yourself. To mend the scrapes on your knees by yourself, patch your own pieces together and look back to see how far you've come and how strong you are. To love because you are ever-changing how you love.

Run run run run till you can't feel your feet and run till your heart is running so fast that it can give up any time. Give up living. Run. Run from them. Hide behind the walls, live in the shadows, live. Live only for yourself not for them. Live till you can fashion yourself a new name and run so fast that you leave your past self behind. A name you didn't choose. A person you didn't choose to become. Run from this life into another one. Run.

You are the best thing that has happened to me

You're still my favourite memory. You're the time I go back to when I want to laugh. You're the time I go back to when I want to cry. My tongue wraps around your name like it's a stranger's. Sometimes I feel like that's what we have become. We have come so far. We grew together. You more than me, evidently. We grew by ourselves and here we are. I still remember when it was so easy, when I didn't have to think thrice about what to say to you. When I was enough to make you feel something. I loved being your person. It was like being rewarded for being utterly selfish and greedy. It was the best kind of reward for such terrible things to be. If it helps, I confess to myself every now and then that I did love you. The person I was did love you ardently. That person wanted to grow old with you. Now I only want to grow up with you. Listen to your laughter and see stars in your eyes as you tell me about your dreams, share your past with me and I crack a lame joke about you riding an honest to god scooter not too far ago. Sometimes I think we are the best for each other. Like we will gravitate back together. Somehow, someday. It scares me. I don't want that. Because I know by now that I will somehow never be quite enough for you, in my plain ordinariness. I spell uneventful. I reek of safe. You made me hazardous. You made me feel alive. Except that wasn't the way to do it, hurting you wasn't the way to do it. All these nights later I still feel like your face is right there and I'm pressing my palm against your warm cheek. I can feel you smile under my fingers. And I only see that as a goodbye.

You're still the best thing that happened to me

You're still my favourite memory. You're the time I go back to when I want to laugh. You're the time I go back to when I want to cry. My tongue wraps around your name like it's a stranger's. Sometimes I feel like that's what we have become. We have come so far. We grew together. You more than me, evidently. We grew by ourselves and here we are. I still remember when it was so easy, when I didn't have to think thrice about what to say to you. When I was enough to make you feel something. I loved being your person. It was like being rewarded for being utterly selfish and greedy. It was the best kind of reward for such terrible things to be. If it helps, I confess to myself every now and then that I did love you. The person I was did love you ardently. That person wanted to grow old with you. Now I only want to grow up with you. Listen to your laughter and see stars in your eyes as you tell me about your dreams, share your past with me and I crack a lame joke about you riding an honest to god scooter not too far ago. Sometimes I think we are the best for each other. Like we will gravitate back together. Somehow, someday. It scares me. I don't want that. Because I know by now that I will somehow never be quite enough for you, in my plain ordinariness. I spell uneventful. I reek of safe. You made me hazardous. You made me feel alive. Except that wasn't the way to do it, hurting you wasn't the way to do it. All these nights later I still feel like your face is right there and I'm pressing my palm against your warm cheek. I can feel you smile under my fingers. And I only see that as a goodbye.

Between the night and the morning Is when I'll miss you the most When my fingers will not know What to hold to save me from drowning When the only light I'll have Is the cheap neon kind swimming behind my eyes A warning sign as the lids shut close And the heart opens The stitches come undone And I think of those misty mornings The whispered conversations The untamed laughter And the natural disaster we couldn't help but be From a peaceful ocean To churning tides And finally a tsunami Receding into the horizon, we were the waves Breaking against the rocks of each other We wore and tore We were worn and torn Wrong and right Against the dying morning light.

#poetry

endless-unfolding

Poem that opened you– The opposite of a wound. Didn’t the world Come pouring through?

Gregory Orr, from “How Beautiful the Beloved” (via pigmenting)

murmurrs

Strange how we decorate pain.

Margaret Atwood, Oh, Morning in the Burned House (via weltenwellen)

mallorylucille

This is when I wish I could take your pain away. Warm humid nights with no breezes and only a damp heat hanging in the air upside down. The world is upside down. I don't want to see you bent over and coughing your guts. I want to take away the shattering pain. I want to breathe back life into you and fight to death till the cold hand releases your lungs. They're caged inside something so useless, and I feel the same way right now, pretty useless for not being able to do anything. I know you'll make it but I also know you'll have terrifying nights where you'll be wheezing your insides. This is when I wish I could take your pain away.

#i need you to be okay #so helpless #i dont know what to do

4am-reflections

No one could ever understand the comfort of hearing your voice. It will always be my favourite sound. No one will ever know how badly I just want to feel your skin underneath my fingertips. Home for me is in your arms. No one will ever get how much I miss you. I’d give anything just to be able to look into your eyes. You are my home, my world, my everything and all i want is to be beside you.

4am (via 4am-reflections)

But I can't be and I'm not. And it makes me die little by little inside at 4 am.

wordsnquotes

I’ve written some poetry I don’t understand myself.

Carl Sandburg (via wordsnquotes)

blossomfully

Your first love gets you raw and open and naive and strong. Your first love gets the secrets that you never even knew you were meant to keep buried away. Your first love teaches you that love isn’t about reckless kissing and hands all over the place, that it’s actually about learning and understanding and compromise and feeling so happy you might explode. Your first love takes you to the mountain tops and the stars there are more spectacular than any you’ve ever seen. Your first love sits with you until your head finds a home in the crevice between their neck and shoulder and you want to stay, more than anything, you want to stay. Your first love laughs at your jokes and suddenly you are the world’s greatest comedian, it doesn’t matter that no one ever found you funny before, it doesn’t matter than tomorrow you still have to face the world. Your first love is like a safe, where you hide the treasures most precious to you because you think they’ll be around forever. Your first love teaches you loneliness, teaches you about endings and goodbyes and emptiness. Your first love makes breaking an arm sound like a walk in the park. Your first love promises that they won’t forget and you believe them until you see them kissing someone else on the street that you used to meet. Your first love makes you bitter. And your second love makes that bitterness go away.

S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #167 // “Talk about your first love?“ ; “I feel like second loves don’t get enough credit.” (via blossomfully)

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