It’s so fucked up how ur born and ur life is immediately woven into thousands of years of history that came before you against ur will and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it
“WHEN YOU’RE FALLING OUT OF LOVE: 1. his smile used to drip honey but now it is all chipped iceberg teeth in a sea of red. 2. the butterflies try their best to escape but they just drop dead in the pit of your stomach every time he touches your hand. 3. you’ll find yourself forcing laughter through a closed mouth. 4. you’ll find a new home on the shoulder of the boy who sits next to you in class. you’ll spend the hours studying the softness of his hands instead, imagining how they might feel in your hair. 5. he is no longer what you search for in the spaces between the masses of people around. you just keep walking as tall as you possibly can. 6. you see his laid back nature as laziness and his jokes as misogynistic and you can’t believe you’ve been living with rose-tinted glasses this whole time. 7. catching his eye feels all types of guilty because you can’t love him the way he wants you to anymore. 8. your cheeks will flush with poppies when the boy that sits next to you in class whispers your name. you’ll feel hurricanes ripping through your insides, blowing away all the dust that settled on your heart. 9. all the sheets of paper you filled with poetry about him you’ll want to burn because it doesn’t make sense anymore; it doesn’t feel real anymore. 10. you always said forever but sometimes forever can seem so short that before you know it, you’ve already forgotten what his name feels like when you hold it on your tongue.”
peachy love - a comfy love, as cozy as afternoon sunlight in the summer, as warm as coffee shops and summer picnics. being with you is like listening to music - I forget my worries and sunlight is brighter. sharing tiramisu cake, laughing so hard tears surface, going on adventures…moments like these carry a hint of soft nostalgia, even while they are happening.
starlight love - I’m enchanted by the pretty colors in your eyes - when the sunlight hits them, they remind me of precious stones. I imagine talking to you until 3 am on a rooftop, the stars bright above, frozen in time. when I look at you, it’s like admiring a beautiful work of art. thinking about you makes my heart blush. I can’t help but gaze at you, wondering how anyone could be so perfect.
rosy love - seeing you gives me butterflies. you make me feel calm and flustered at the same time, a feeling I’ve never felt before. sometimes, I imagine a soft love song that plays in the background when I’m with you, like we’re in a movie. all I want to do is cuddle with you, lie next to you, go to cute ice cream parlors and hold your hand. I’m either with you or waiting to see you again, and you make me happier than anything else in the world.
lunar love - you know my secrets, I know yours. like the moon, you understand my mannerisms, emotions and thoughts like no one else, and I can tell from a glance if you’re only pretending to be happy, or if something is troubling you. at night when you can’t sleep, I’m here. when I’m sad, you know the perfect things to say. It’s like we were both created to heal and comfort the other, like soulmates. I know that as long as you’re here, I’ll be okay.
If you genuinely enjoy being alone, do you ever wonder if it is an inherent part of your character or if it stems from feeling inescapably lonely in the first place until you taught yourself to enjoy the peace and happiness one can find in solitude? what if the reason you now prefer & choose solitude at every turn is because you were a very lonely child, or teenager, not by your own choice, and that’s how you learnt to thrive and grow, so you no longer know if you can do that around people? There might also be an element of personal pride, an unconscious “you can’t fire me I quit” point when your brain decided to switch your feelings about solitude from distress to relief. I often find myself defending my love of being alone, to people who worry that I can’t possibly be happy to live in an isolated house in the woods; I insist that I do! I really do specifically enjoy the isolated factor and chose to live here because of it, but then I wonder how to differentiate an ingrained love of solitude from an acquired ability to thrive off unchosen loneliness, to learn from it and be nourished by it; to what extent it might be a form of contentment built on a bedrock of resignation.
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The “We are the 99%” Tumblr blog became the slogan for the Occupy Wall Street movement.