Lovers

Linda Pastan, from Waiting for My Life: Poems; "What We Want"

[Text ID: "and in the morning / our arms ache. / We don't remember the dream, / but the dream remembers us."]

It's not that I desire your return; it is an inevitable longing to engage in conversation once more. I don't know if it is because of my loneliness, or it's my memories which play games with me, perhaps its because back in time when we were kids, maybe we were the sole bearers of understanding the complex notion of love and were outlawed from the company of the world because we understood it.

Jay Vespertine; Wildest Dreams

Cute cottage core animals I found on pinterest!!

Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/darkvail/cottagecore-animals-3/

(via)

why don’t you read a poem about the sunrise written 5 centuries ago and contemplate the fact that we have been writing about the same sun for centuries upon centuries and then maybe you’ll calm down

I don’t know why people would continue to choose me and invest in me.

One day, between the headlights and the sound of the shower, it might start to get easier. Everytime it does, I start to drown again. Maybe it’s because after a while, I’m sick of fighting and It’s much easier to sink, to falter, to fail. After a while, people stop expecting things from you, teachers favourite loser. Pretty horrible for a perfectionist and overachiever.

I don’t know why this is something I continue to struggle with. I have food, money, a girlfriend who treats me like a alluring flower, even though I have bugs inside. They start to eat me every so often and people get to peer inside, behind my petals. I shouldn’t be struggling and yet I am.

It may be the writer in me but it’s something I can’t contain. Enough to scare my friends, enough to make my girlfriend hold me tight, enough to keep my mind occupied. Like a dark cloud that follows me, I can’t shake it. I know I’m a bad person, I’ve tried to change, but inside I feel it. The anger, the pain, the sadness, the frustration. Almost reluctant to admit how often my mind feels like an LDR song.

It makes sense that people wouldn’t want to be around all this. My mind constantly running, never turning off. Why would someone want to be with someone who always has a running commentary and an opinion about everything. I should get paid for the way I ruin peoples days, on and off again, like a carousel.

But it’s okay, I don’t care at the end of the day. Isn’t that right?

“Life went on without you. Of course, it did. of course, it does. It was just an ending, not the end.”

— Lang Leav