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Awestruck, Wonderstruck
God. FC Barcelona. Arsenal. Messi. Sherlock. Potter. YouTubers. Books. The Awkward Weirdo.
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I heard what you said. I’m not the silly romantic you think. I don’t want the heavens or the shooting stars. I don’t want gemstones or gold. I have those things already. I want…a steady hand. A kind soul. I want to fall asleep, and wake, knowing my heart is safe. I want to love, and be loved.
Shana Abé
(via thelovejournals)
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Savage official account hahaha
lmaoo why are ppl like this ??
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And this is how you love as a writer-
There is no cap to contain this spillage, the ink thickening while these feelings you didn’t expect overtake you.
This is a tragedy, you question yourself; you question them; you question if any of this is actually real and your answer comes in the form of the metaphors you’ve just written, your emotions splattered across the page in the most artistic form you could muster.
It almost looks like a mosaic, little pieces of your heart assembled to create an image of the faces of the ones you hold dear to you, or at least wish you could because sometimes it just doesn’t work out that way.
Almost.
The difference between what you see and what the people who read your work see is they don’t see the process, they see the cracks and they see the blood but they don’t see the amount of times you had to piece yourself back together again.
As a writer, your work is a tourist attraction, a museum of midnight thoughts people who have only ever heard of you in name or may have never heard of you at all can come to learn about your life.
They call it beautiful.
You call it tragic.
Where is the beauty in all of this broken?
You wish you could ask them how they arrived at that conclusion, you wish you could see what they see but you don’t because you know how you got there and cannot be oblivious to the sadness, happiness and fear that some nights feels like it’s etched into your soul so instead, you just keep writing, leaving yourself in each metaphor and simile hoping that one day you can look back on them fondly and hoping they don’t end up as merely another exhibit to be so intensely misunderstood.
To the person I fall in love with someday, this is how I will love you, with every bit of me that I can still manage to present.
So when I write you poem after poem, please bear with me.
Maxwell Diawuoh, Once A Day (69/366)
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If he truly loves you, he will love you when you are an ocean breeze, but also when you are a summer storm. You were not made to be loved in parts, you were meant to be loved as a whole.
If He Truly Loves You | Nikita Gill (via bled)
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We never said the word love - we didn't have to. It was in our laughter, in the sense of wonder we found in each other. And if we had doubts then, time has told us otherwise.
- Lang Leav
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Will this soul-sucking pain be worth it if I get to have you again? Will you come back if I give you more hints that it’s you who I really am inlove with? Will you leave her if I show you how great my love could be? I can show you, we can let the world know how great we can be together. Just let me in. Let me in your life again and we’ll shock each other’s world with our love.
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There are a few rules I know to be true about love and marriage: If you don’t respect the other person, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble. If you don’t know how to compromise, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble. If you can’t talk openly about what goes on between you, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble. And if you don’t have a common set of values in life, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble. Your values must be alike.
Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie (via hqlines)
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