soft

candace 🌙 soft, like velvet.

[vellevetine]

i can see the pieces of me that are still left in you.

i hope you never forget me.

[kristina100000]

nice things will happen but first you have to lose all hope and die 45 times

[blossomfully]

I am forgetting. I am forgetting everything. Yesterday I read a diary entry about the first time I told you I loved you. I felt as though I was reading about somebody else’s life.

Sue Zhao| Nothing but Strawberries

[blossomfully]

“One day - I will tell you about the dream I had, where you and I were together and you did not leave, where I was not terrified and you were not numb, where things were the way we wished they could be and not the way they are.”

— Sue Zhao

[31st]

i have to tell you something that will lower your entire opinion of me

[31st]

when i was 12 i made flyers for my fanfiction and handed them out a train station

[edgebug]

im blown away by the sheer confidence this act required. if anything my opinion has been raised. the poise. the fearlessness. the laughing in the face of death. i’m speechless

[blossomfully]

has your best friend ever broken your heart?

I’ve had friends break my heart before. I feel like it’s a kind of heartbreak that people don’t talk about. The hurt of drifting away from a childhood friend. The hurt of outgrowing people. The hurt of being outgrown. You never really expect your closest friends to leave but sometimes they do.

[blossomfully]

“Please, remember this. There was a love and it was ours. It was ours.”

— Sue Zhao

[vellevetine]

Keep reading

[vellevetine]

somehow it’s strange that i keep coming back here for solace. for a safe space. to spill my feelings onto a page and let it sit here, unread, forever.

i am a little lost. i am a lot lonely. the boy i fell in love with and i are together, but it took so much of me to get us here. it took so much. and it continues to take, take, take, and it eats away at me a little whenever the same thing comes back time and time again to hurt me. i fell apart this week, and i needed him to be there for me. but when i reached, he didn’t grab hold. he didn’t give me the support i needed. and so i fell into myself, fell into a familiar trench that had gone unused for so long that i had to clean away cobwebs and old sorrows.

i do not want to beg for love. i do not want to beg for support. i do not want to beg for what i consider to be bare minimum. i do not want to tell someone how i feel, and be met with silence. i do not want to be asked ‘what do you want me to say?’ because i don’t seek solace in people for the sole purpose of making them tell me what i want to hear. i want to hear you. i want your voice. i want your warmth, your support, your sturdiness. i came to you because i love you, and i needed you, and i turned away because i didn’t receive what i needed. why would i turn back to you when you ignored me the first time? why would i try again, to be faced with the same rejection, when i am already so fragile? so brittle? so wounded, that even the lightest breeze could blow me away and i’d never let myself be found again?

[blossomfully]

I wish I could have told you that your pain was also hurting me. But how could I? How could I add to your disaster like that? So I kept quiet, all the while letting it set me on fire from the inside.  Now, you say that you have found your peace. I tell you that I am so happy for you. I tell you that I am proud. I tell you that I knew you would get there. I don’t tell you that I am still suffering. I don’t mention the third-degree burns you left, that no hospital will ever be able to treat. I don’t breathe a word about it.

Sue Zhao // I don’t even know what to call this (via blossomfully)

[blossomfully]

“He’d never cared much for strawberries, but that summer her lips were so stained with the juices that they were all he tasted. And he’d never had a favourite fruit, but two years later, a new girl is sat in front of him, laughing at his jokes. “If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?” She asks playfully. And he remembers how her hands traced the veins in his neck and made their way across his chest. He remembers her soft breathing and limbs draped across his shoulders. “Strawberries.” He tells her. “I could live a life on nothing but strawberries.””

— S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #54 -“Strawberries” (via blossomfully)

[blossomfully]

“With the right person, it feels simple. Even when it’s difficult it feels simple. Because you never question if it’s worth it. You know the answer is yes.”

— Sue Zhao

[blossomfully]

About a friend

Follow me on Instagram at s.m.zhao

[blossomfully]

“You were thirteen, lying on her bed swearing you’d be best friends forever. Nowadays you barely talk. Nowadays you pass each other with your heads shoved down, like strangers who are scared to make a noise. The inside of her bedroom is no longer pastel pink; she no longer wears her hair long. You can’t remember the exact moment you stopped sharing secrets, all you know is you no longer know her favourite song. You can’t remember the exact moment things changed, or whether there was an exact moment at all. But these days you pass each other in the corridors and thirteen year old you wonders what went wrong.”

— S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #279  // “We were so close, now we’re like strangers.” (via blossomfully)

[blossomfully]

“Sometimes though, the sadness feels familiar and you go back to it even though you swear you never would. It’s good at lending you a hand when you’re down. It’s good at pretending to be your friend. It’s good at looking you up and down, a cigarette in its upturned mouth, and saying - “I’m the only one that’s here for you now. See? I’m the only one who understands.” And in times like these, you almost welcome its reappearance. It’s a liability, but it’s a constant. It doesn’t love you like you wish something - someone, would, but it loves you in its own, corrupted way. It’s better than nothing, you tell yourself “It’s still love.””

— Sue Zhao

[blossomfully]

“Call me at 4am. Wake me up. I don’t care, I just want to hear your voice. Tell me about the bad dream you had, tell me why you can’t fall asleep. Tell me why you prefer to talk at night, or why the words only come spilling from your mouth when you think no one is listening. I am here. I will listen to you when your shoulders feel heavy; I will hear your words when you feel so crushingly small. I will sit with you in silence when you are slumped against your pillow. I know your sadness is not beautiful, I know it is overwhelming and destructive and ugly. I know you feel powerless and redundant. So call me at 4am. I prefer you over sleep any day. Don’t sit there on your own. Talk to me. I love you and I care.”

— S. Zhao (via blossomfully)

[actualbpd]

real big trauma mood is crying for 5 minutes once every six months and then going back to repressing every emotion

[blossomfully]

But how can you miss someone when they are right beside you?“ She asks. “You can,” I say, “you can. When they are beside you but they are not yours. When they can leave without a moment’s notice and you do not have the right to ask them to stay.

Sue Zhao  (via blossomfully)