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I used to be a better person,

but then again, so did you.

06.28.14 ♥ 1

I’m shouting to you at max volume, and you’re suddenly tone deaf.

06.28.14 ♥ 1

I can’t do a lot of things, I’ll admit it. But there’s one thing I definitely can’t do no matter what. I can’t listen to the song “The Things We Did and Didn’t Do” by the Magnetic Fields without getting nostalgic.

06.28.14 ♥ 0

I feel like I’m going to spend forever singing to your ghost. Isn’t it supposed to reversed? Aren’t banshees the ones that forever scream at their living loved ones? It’s me to do things in the reverse. I love you before you speak. I hate you before you could ever hit me. I run away when you are already staying. I call when the phone line already died years ago. Sometimes, I pray for a sore throat since I know I won’t ever give up on you even I was given up myself. I am stubborn to every single fault because I will always feel like it’s my fault for everything that happened or didn’t happen. They say it’s easy to love yourself, but it’s always easier to hate yourself more. Then again, don’t they also say not to talk to strangers but are you supposed to make friends and lovers in the first place? Braille them?

06.28.14 ♥ 0
06.16.14 ♥ 347

Yay, survived the number one day a year I hate.

And this would of course be how I return to my first Tumblr account with negativity. :D

06.16.14 ♥ 0

I know you’re probably fine,

but I can’t help but wonder. I really hope you’re okay.

12.06.13 ♥ 0

I was tired of living a life that didn’t feel like it was mine anymore. I was a stranger in my own reality.

11.16.13 ♥ 1

“Suddenly for no earthly reason I felt immensely sorry for him and longed to say something real, something with wings and a heart, but the birds I wanted settled on my shoulders and head only later when I was alone and not in need of words.”
Vladimir Nabokov, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight

11.16.13 ♥ 12
I’m okay now. I have been for some time. It took me awhile while you seemed to get over it faster. I’ve always been a slow and steady type and you were always half out the door. I was safe and caution and you were dangerous and off the deep end.  We bled while revealed within and outwards. Some sights cannot be unseen. Some words cannot be forgotten or taken back. Some things brought us together. Some things separated us. It’s not practical or right to point things when we know we both got scars. A badge of honour not quite. A notch on the bedpost doesn’t appear so. A piece of shared history in one another’s book shelf perhaps. Yes, you broke my heart, but I remember for a time, you did glue the pieces, too. We tear, we mend. Things that end had beginnings, as well. We forget and we remember. SO much has happened, so much was supposed to happen. We cannot change our past, but there is still the future. Oh well, oh well. I suppose in time, we both will be well.

I’m okay now. I have been for some time. It took me awhile while you seemed to get over it faster. I’ve always been a slow and steady type and you were always half out the door. I was safe and caution and you were dangerous and off the deep end.  We bled while revealed within and outwards. Some sights cannot be unseen. Some words cannot be forgotten or taken back. Some things brought us together. Some things separated us. It’s not practical or right to point things when we know we both got scars. A badge of honour not quite. A notch on the bedpost doesn’t appear so. A piece of shared history in one another’s book shelf perhaps. Yes, you broke my heart, but I remember for a time, you did glue the pieces, too. We tear, we mend. Things that end had beginnings, as well. We forget and we remember. SO much has happened, so much was supposed to happen. We cannot change our past, but there is still the future. Oh well, oh well. I suppose in time, we both will be well.

Now’s a present for someone else.

Who says we all get happily ever afters?

And yet I adore him. I think he’s quite crazy, and with no place or occupation in life, and far from happy, and philosophically irresponsible – and there is absolutely nobody like him.

— Vladimir Nabokov

11.16.13 ♥ 43

a PIECE of mind

I still wear your shirt sometimes. It has become increasingly worn by each use, but I don’t mind. Sometimes, I wonder if you still wear that gray scarf I got you almost four Christmases ago. How I wonder if I am ever a fixture in your mind like I used to be. I hope you don’t mind.

11.16.13 ♥ 2
No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.

— Vladmir Nabokov

11.16.13 ♥ 53