mysticalgnome04

[mysticalgnome04]

[mysticalgnome04]

I promise you, you can't form a deep connection with someone when you don't feel safe with them because without emotional safety, there's no trust. Without trust, there's no vulnerability. Without vulnerability, there's no intimacy. Without intimacy, there's no deep connection.

[mysticalgnome04]

“Sometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there’s no room for the present at all.”

— Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited

[mysticalgnome04]

i hope my absence gives you the peace my love apparently never could

- dee

[mysticalgnome04]

Nicole W. Lee, from "Even the Dust"

[mysticalgnome04]

[mysticalgnome04]

[mysticalgnome04]

[mysticalgnome04]

I hope that it haunts you, The sheer memory of my face, as you whispered all those words, that you always swore you'd never say. People always tell me to let it go and give you grace. But honestly half the time, I just want to rub it in your face. See I'm older now and I should be wiser, or at least wiser than before, but somehow every day you seem to make me miss you more. Through every life experience that seems to dull the pain, somehow all those memories, just never seem to go away. I hate how you can smile and live like you did before, when it feels like my old friend sorrow is knocking constantly at my door. Before the whole thing happened, I was caught under your spell, caught in an endless cycle, a never-ending hell. I lived with just one purpose, one that I served all too well. I was lost and I was broken- like the women at the well. I used to think I had to please you, to make myself a life. I used to beg for your approval at least each and every night. you see, writing was my passion, a way to numb my pain. Through tears of grief however I never knew what to say. I used to dream about putting how I felt into words on a page. it's funny how a person can live through so much emontional pain. That little term survior is one that I'll always know too well, sometimes I feel like I'm Pandora stuck inside a box of my own personal hell. I always thought I was pheniox, that I would rise inside these flames, but instead I'm like a disease, with people dying in my wake. I don't expect you to understand just what you do to me, but every time i'm ignored- you take a peice of me. I fear that soon you will have every single peice of me, and when they look at you, I am what they see, and that it's all over, the truth is very clear to see, what I thought was a bed of roses, was really just my grave, I had to die again to realize, that I am worth my pain.