I make it fairly easy to cut people out of my life for the hell of it. Most of the time, I don’t want to do anything with them any longer because they’ll either bore me, show nothing that can benefit both parties in the long run, or just flat-out annoying. I say that I should work on that, but I never do and now I don’t want to.
Everyone has an expiration date with me and when the time runs out, it is over. And that’s life.
I like you but I don’t know what to do about it and I cant tell you because I’m afraid what you do about it.
the worst kind of self hate is the one that makes you think you’re incapable of loving. the one that makes you hate yourself for even trying.
Even when I feel like you aren’t reciprocating, I still think of how much more I can give. How I can mend my plans to possibly suit yours. How I can drop subtle hints to grab your attention. But I shouldn’t have to do so much. Why do I continue to give and give, even when you meet me less than halfway there? But when you come back, it’s like a clean slate. If you see a good thing right in front of you, why do you continue to postpone and be so vague? These are just some of the things that make me question myself. I feel so weak and pathetic for continuing with this cycle of events. But even though I guess I shouldn’t feel that way, I’ll never let you see that.
I barely know you,
but yet I feel deeply connected to you.
I never had you,
but yet I feel so lonely without you. ❞
— 넬, Beautiful Stranger (via nou2705)
attraction. it’s more than physical. at least to me is. it becomes more ..or less. it honestly depends on that individual. it depends on the words they mouth. the conversations you have. the history shared. the interest shown. the love that blossoms. the laughs that are exchanged. the depth of intimacy. the grasps of air in between. it’s everything. it’s the reason why love unfolds. why two souls bare down to the bone. the reason why people fall in love. attraction is being so attracted to the mind that you find beauty within the flaws. you find beauty within each scar, within each memory and within yourself. you learn sacrifice, patience, determination & the skill to fight for not only yourself. it becomes the very reason you become a fool. the same fool who loves through the sunny days, thunderstorms and unpredicted ruffles with nature. love is an attraction within itself. we attracted to what we believe love is. we want it to be real, to be beautiful, to never end ..it may be all the above. it just depends on that individual that you fall for..
I went on a date last night and then you texted and asked, again, whether I would come there. Start our days with coffee, end with you making dinner. Forever. I feel myself tug towards yes and then I remember why it will always be no with you and I.
There are people in your life who are going to love you for all of the wrong reasons. They will love you for the best part of your face, the best part of you naked, the best mood on your best day, the best story you ever wrote, the best outfit you ever wore.
They are going to miss the scar on the underside of your nose from the time your older brothers dared you to run across a pile of logs. They won’t know that you fell on a hidden nail just as you completed the challenge. They’ll miss the scar on your finger, too from the time you were seven and closed a swiss army knife on it. They won’t understand that these are two of only a handful of things you can remember about your childhood. They’ll notice that you have great tits, but they’ll miss that your thumb tucks into their palm when you’re walking together and that your eyes have darker circles when a migraine is coming. They won’t know you get migraines. They won’t ask where the story you wrote came from, so they’ll never know that it was true. They’ll love it because it feels real to them. They’ll miss knowing the sweatshirt full of holes that they criticized you for wearing was your dads. You might tell them some of these things along the way, but they will remember the best things instead.
They will love your good moods, your energy, your sense of humor, but miss that you never turn to them, but rather to a shower or a pillow or the back of your throat to shed tears. They won’t ever consider you strong.
When the parts that aren’t your best come out, some people will shield their eyes as if you have just forced them to look directly into the sun for hours until their irises burn. They’ll silently make you promise to never show them that again. Those things are not to be shown. Be at your best so I can love you. I would love you more if only you never show me those things.
And you do not marry those people. You do not sit and sleepily drink coffee with those people. You leave those people and you remind yourself that they missed the better parts of you.
I’m not gonna meet your mother anytime,
I just wanna grip your body over mine,
please, tell me why you think that’s a crime.
I’ve forgotten all of young love’s joy,
feel like a lady, and you my lady boy