be grateful for time spent and the privilege to even feel each other and breathe each other to stare into each others eyes to hold them in your arms and fall asleep together all the things ive ever wanted you have so be grateful
for almost a year ive been forced to be content with pixels and text instead of kisses and flesh webcams and headsets just don’t quite do it when youve found the one
do you know what’s its like to talk each and every day and sleep apart each and every night? i love to be in his thoughts but i’d much rather be in his arms warmth, love, heat, and affection insulated lovingly underneath the sheets
i want to give him my love and show him how much he means to me with my body, my voice, and my spirit i want to give him something that i can’t send to him in an email i want to hand him a gift in person as opposed to having a stranger drop it at his door i want people to see how much we love each other in the flesh instead of having to tell them about it i want the stigma of having my darling live far away to go away
i don’t want to wait for you to come home in the middle of the night anymore i don’t want to have to worry about you when you go out i don’t want all of our conversations to rely on technology
and i don’t want to sleep alone anymore
i want you all of you your good your bad your insecurities and your flaws i want it all i want you to have all of me my troubles my worries and my undying devotion i want you and your life and your morals and your dreams but most of all i want time to hurry up because
that there is a girl out there who I just want to make smile. There is a girl out there whose hand I want to hold. There is a girl who I want to hug at every opportunity. There is a girl who I really like that’s is giving her attention to a guy who doesn’t deserve it as much as I do.
Dear tumblr,
I have a crush on a girl, and it’s growing quite fast. I’ve been thinking about her more and more with each day. I don’t want to scare her away, But there is a girl out there who I want to make mine. All mine.
I want to make her laugh. I want to text her cute little hearts. whenever I feel like it. I want to make her feel like a princess. I want to give her the butterflies that she gives me. I want to give her kisses on the cheek so that all her friends can see. But most of all, I think, I want her to feel The same way about me.
“Good night mom. Good night dad.” Words uttered from small tired lips. A nightly ritual, no doubt. Always right around the same time. Something you could always count on. A loving and carefully placed kiss right on your cheek. A snug tucking into your sheets. And if you were especially good, maybe even a bedtime story About a king and a queen And their beautiful princess And how they lived happily ever after.
“‘Night.” Concise and mumbled from an indifferent tongue The time, it varies. Reasonable one night, but perhaps later the next. That is, if it even occurs. A quick wave of the hand In your direction. Maybe even a “Don’t stay up too late.” And if you were good, They wouldn’t ask how your day was And leave you alone, Finally.
Silence. There’s no need for formalities When you come stumbling in to the house In the dead of the night. Not a stir. You may get a snore here or there. The groggy ruffling of the sheets, If you’re lucky. And if you were good, you may even find some leftovers, hastily wrapped and tepid, perched on the counter. That is, if they even remembered.
But you don’t complain, Because this is what you always wanted, isn’t it?
It’s strange how at one point, you really do believe you could never live without someone who meant so much to you.
I used to believe that, too. Last summer was pretty rough for me.
For months afterwards, there was an endless amount of posts on tumblr that reminded me of that certain someone. Nowadays, I find myself recalling this vague blur that was once his figure.
I don’t think I actually cared for him.
I’m just now realizing I was infatuated with the idea of him.
He’s really not that special. He never really was.
2:30am. Time seems to be creeping along today as opposed to flying. I wonder why. I feel restless and tired all at once. Is this a result of the Ibuprofen I wonder? I don’t normally take pills. I never notice the effects of them either. I feel stranger than normal. I mean, I’m normally quite weird, but I’m never presently aware of it. What is so different about tonight?
Am I bored? No, it doesn’t quite feel like it. I’m positive this isn’t sadness either. Why am I so antsy? And why all the questions? Why am I so unsure of everything?
What do I want in life? Why am I so reflective? Why don’t I have any answers?
Guess I’ll just sit here and continue to exist until something happens.
You’re in a room. You’ve waited a long time to finally make it to this chamber. Many long years spent waiting and dreaming of what you’ll find in this room. You’ve heard stories, but you’re only just discovering the true nature of this place. You examine your surroundings. It’s all too surreal. There it is, right in front of you.
The feast.
This feast is magnificent. It’s everything you’ve always imagined it to be. Succulent meats and wine of the gods created solely for your benefit and pleasure. So many to choose from, where should you start? Surely you cannot fit multiple foods into your mouth at once. You are going to have to select one dish and be satisfied with it until you have sucked out the flavor in its entirety. That’s how food works right? It isn’t a give-and-take relationship. The food exists to please you.
But wait.
Is this really how it’s meant to work? What happens if you really enjoy the delicacy you are currently consuming? You can attempt to savor it, but it’s not going to last forever. It’s going to become a bland, colorless puree before long. Suddenly, you are feeling like you want to give the dish some of the same pleasure it has given you.
But you can’t.
Why? Because it’s just food, right? Who cares how the food feels? It’s all about what you want, right? There’s nothing you can do. You will eat, you will be content, and you will move on. There will be no regrets, because it’s just food, right?
I’m sorry I can’t help but listen to the bluebirds And stare at the sunlight outside my window I’m sorry I can’t help but see through the cracks in the mirror And ignore the paint chipping off these walls I’m sorry I can’t help but trust the angel on my shoulder And banish all the demons into the darkness
This prism of my own design deflects all that does not align and refracts what I think is mine All the way up here, here on Cloud Nine
