He cannot find enough words
to fit her into, repeats “amazing”
twice in the same sentence and
does not know where to go from
there— some may say that love
has made him speechless,
others would argue that she
is water being soaked up by a
sponge, expanding his thoughts
by forcing him to delve through
dictionaries until his mind is sore
from learning all the ways he can to
describe the beauty sitting before him.
Truth is Stranger Than Fiction: I know you started to look at me differently after you kissed me, it... -
I know you started to look at me
differently after you kissed me,
it would have been impossible
not to, but I wanted you to see—
I am still the same girl you went to
the Radiohead concert with, who
held you together with her words
like glue, who called the cops when
you swore you were…
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close. — Pablo Neruda (via runawaytrain)
On the darkest days you have to search for a spot of brightness, on the coldest days you have to seek out a spot of warmth; on the bleakest days you have to keep your eyes onward and upward. And on the saddest days, you have to leave them open to let them cry. To then let them dry. To give them a chance to wash out the pain in order to see fresh and clear once again. — Tahereh Mafi, Unravel Me (via larmoyante)
is the only
I have ever
But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o’clock in the morning. — Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (via larmoyante)
No one in my family, not one of my friends or classmates realized that I was going through life asleep.
It was literally true: I was going through life asleep. My body had no more feeling than a drowned corpse. My very existence, my life in the world, seemed like a hallucination. A strong wind would make me think my body was about to be blown to the end of the earth, to some land I had never seen or heard of, where my mind and body would separate forever. ‘Hold tight,’ I would tell myself, but there was nothing for me to hold on to. — Haruki Murakami, Sleep (via larmoyante)
So you attempt to hide your loneliness in public, to behave, in fact, as though you have too many friends already, and thus you hope to attract people who will unwittingly save you. But it never works that way. Your condition is written all over your face, in the hunch of your shoulders, in the hollowness of your laugh. You fool no one.
Believe me in this; I’ve tried all the tricks of the lonely man. — David Marusek (via larmoyante)
I told him, “If I met you when you were 17, I would have thought you were foolish and I would have loved you.
And some day, you are going to lose your hair. And I am going to be very fat, and we will be wrinkling and tattooed and nearly deaf, and I will have to shout ‘I love you!’ at the top of my lungs so you can hear me. — (via clementinevonradics)
You should stay as far away from me as possible. You should pack up your blue eyes and your cold, immobile heart and leave me in the middle of the night with no word on how to find you. Listen to your instincts, feel it in the wind, whatever. Look for the signs, each one is whispering to you a single word: Run!
So go. Git.
Ignore our similar histories and passions. Do not imagine the future I could slide into like water down your throat. Do not close your eyes and remember how we have quietly twisted together. Whatever you do, don’t remember the good. The good might lure you back to me.
Instead, think only of your fears and call them convictions. Call yourself a wanderer. Tell yourself I will only tie you down. Repeat these excuses to your friends. Pretend not to hear how flimsy the words sound. Go explore, be alone, find yourself. Meet uncomplicated girls. Don’t learn their last names. Fuck them.
You fear (and rightly so) what I will do to your life. I would challenge every thought, blur every line and insist on vivid detail and subtext. I would ask too much. I would be an upheaval, a time suck, the last thing you need in the tidy bohemian chaos of your story line. I am soft-bodied and warm blooded and entirely to conflicted and passionate to be any good to you. I would grab. I would insist. I would run my hands up your arm, put my mouth to your ear, and whisper “I love you.”
Go. Please, without saying goodbye. And I wish you all the happiness in the world, I really do. — (via clementinevonradics)