I just saw the most beautiful boy. If you’ve ever had a moment where you see a face you could lovingly stare at for the rest of your life, this would be it. Sorry to go gushy on you all, but I’ve honestly never seen a face of such flawless beauty as this. We have “mutual” friends, but I think it’s only a matter of time before I can’t take it anymore and summon...
Thanks for the response to my music post/question! dude Brittany you’re so lucky. I can’t believe I just discovered them. Now I feel like I’ve got to catch up on all the time missed when they weren’t on my ipod. I still need help figuring out how to respond to my questions asked/comments. And how to add an “ask me” link on my tumblr page. A little help anyone?
Thank you. And same to you if you ever need someone to simply listen. Sometimes I don’t need anyone to say anything, just to kind of be with me as I rant/whine/cry.
Thank you incandescentaesthetic. Unfortunatly, as I am technologically retarded and cannot figure out how to respond to your response on my post, this is how I will show my gratitude for your helpful comment. It really does mean so much that you took the time to help out and comfort a complete stranger. :)
I wait, all day, for you to get online. But you rarely are. And its like this horrible, crushing feeling. I text you once a day (unless you reply) simply because I am so scared of you forgetting me. Don’t forget me. If this is but a taste of love, I’m not at all optimistic. Waiting for you is cruel to me. But at the moment I couldn’t possibly justify doing anything else....
It is said we fall in love. Not trip, not stumble, but indeed, fall. A hard, unchangable, entirely different direction than where we were originally going. A smash, a pain. An injury never fully closed or healed. A visible scar, like a trophy for all the world to see. We do not simply come across love, but are in fact forced into it. An all new kind of gravity, one that makes us changed, never...
My little beast, my eyes, my favorite stolen egg.
Listen. To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to aquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know. -The Poisonwood Bible