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I’m in love with the character you portrayed once

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When they ask,

“Would you wish to be with him for the rest of your life?”

I will simply look them straight in the eye and confidently say

“I want a love that consumes me. Therefore I’m still searching.”

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And slowly just like that, I begin to be there for myself more than for anyone or anything else. Including you.

You are no longer my god

My muse

My person

My soul

My time.

You will slowly become the person I want less.

soon after,

you'll be the person I want nothing with.

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“I’m homesick all the time … I just don’t know where home is. There’s this promise of happiness out there. I know it. I even feel it sometimes. But it’s like chasing the moon. Just when I think I have it, it disappears into the horizon.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

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“If you hesitate between me and another person don’t choose me.”

— Unknown

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Drowning in it.

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I don’t miss him anymore. Most of the time, anyway. I want to. I wish I could but unfortunately, it’s true: time does heal. It will do so whether you like it or not, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. If you’re not careful, time will take away everything that ever hurt you, everything you have lost, and replace it with knowledge. Time is a machine: it will convert your pain into experience… It will force you to move on and you will not have a choice in the matter.

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I’m going to have to live my whole life sad, aren’t I?

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And after all of this, me and your baby, i really wish you would call.

But this is reality. And in reality...

you don't call.

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Reflections of Narcissism - by Valentina

In a mirror, she dances, lost in her own trance, A pretty little puppet, caught up in her own romance, She's got a love affair, with her own reflection, Narcissistic tendencies, fueling her obsession.

She's the queen of her world, spinning 'round and 'round, But the truth is, she's lost, and she can't be found, Her heart is made of glass, fragile and hollow, A self-absorbed soul, drowning in her own sorrow.

Narcissism's her religion, worshiping her own face, She's a living contradiction, trapped in her own embrace, But behind those painted smiles, lies a broken child, Lost in the mirrors, her heart running wild.

In a crowd, she stands tall, craving admiration, A twisted game of validation, her constant fixation, But beneath the surface, there's a void, aching and deep, Her ego's a facade, a secret she can't keep.

She's desperate for attention, craving constant praise, But the more she seeks, the emptier she feels each day, Her self-worth's tied to others' perception, it's a dangerous game, She's trapped in her own reflection, drowning in her own shame.

Narcissism's her religion, worshiping her own face, She's a living contradiction, trapped in her own embrace, But behind those painted smiles, lies a broken child, Lost in the mirrors, her heart running wild.

Oh, the price she pays for this self-obsession, A lonely existence, devoid of true connection, Narcissism's her prison, she's the captive and the guard, In a world of illusions, her soul forever scarred.

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Someday you will know that respect is more important than love.

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what if it all works out. HOW ABOUT THAT HUH

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"Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness, that there is some deep, crazy part within her, that she must be on guard constantly against losing control - of her temper, of her appetite, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind.”

Elana Dykewomon, "Notes for a Magazine," Sinister Wisdom #36 (Winter 1988/89).

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going insane over the prospect of casual intimacy. like taking a bath together and sitting in between their legs while they wash your hair, press soft kisses to your cheek, neck and shoulders. just leaning your head back into the crook of their neck and relaxing as they hold you and trace lines across your skin.