Good Romance.
“You’ve changed.”
“In what way?” I asked.
“A good way.” She smiled.
“The way I kiss?” I teased.
“You know, when I was away, I miss you every day. Then one day I came across this cafe, and I thought I smelled you. I sat there, and I realized, you’ve always smelled of cigarettes and your breath of coffee. I sat there and ordered your favourite latte, and I thought that was the best moment in my life since I left.”
I asked, “And I changed?”
“You were one of the special lovers I had, so full of life and so lack of it. And I thought I had the best of you, until now.”
“How come?” I frowned.
“You’ve changed. Some things don’t, like that look of sadness behind your tired eyes, but now, they come with such tenderness and when I look at you, it’s almost like I’m in some sort of… I don’t know.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Oh, it is. But coffee and cigarettes are easy to find; that tenderness, does not come often, if at all.”
I listened in silence, I did not know what to say.
“When I leave this time, I know it’s going to be harder. It’s going to be one hell of an emotional ride.” She continued.
“How are you feeling now?”
“Happy.” Then she smiled.
“You know, if ever I grow up, IF EVER, I’d love you like I’ve never loved before.”
“Don’t. This is what I love about you, you trying so hard to ‘grow up’ when you and I both know this is the most grown up you’ll ever be, emotionally, of course.”
I chuckled. “I don’t see how is this a good quality of a romance.”
“This is good romance. Think about it. Come on, you’re smarter than this.” She said as she touched my eyebrows.
I looked at her for a long time until she fell asleep.
“Thank you.” I whispered and looked on.
I put Nine Inch Nails on my player. When the song “Hurt” came, I stirred.
“What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know, goes away, in the end. And you could have it all, my empire of dirt, I will let you down, I will make you hurt.”
It reminds me of how much I’m really trapped within myself. Love, loss, redemption, death - a flashback of the times when I was hurt, really hurt and I remember everything.
I broke down. All I could think about, was how unfair the world was. Some people never got the happiness they deserved, some never got to be forgiven, some never got their goodbyes said, some never loved, but all of them shared the one thing, they all left somebody.
It’s a lie, the satisfaction. It’s a lie, the perseverance. It’s a lie, the lies. Full of broken thoughts, I cannot repair. Fear has frozen me. I am trapped. I don’t want to stop trying but struggling suffocates me. All of a sudden, I just want to leave. Leave everybody, take nothing with me, before I leave for good.
Beneath the stains of time, the feelings disappear, you are someone else, I am still right here. Was it me? Was it you? But blaming myself has always been easier because I have so many others to blame.
Not all evil are bad. Not all good are saints. There is always something different, a different person, a different discourse, a different interpretation. You meant nothing to me, while you meant the world to them, who meant nothing to you. I meant the world to you, while I mean nothing to myself. It’s a circle. A lonely circle. Hollow. How do we find peace knowing that this is just a cycle, another cycle. How do we embrace loss and death? How could this be fair? If I could start again, a million miles away, I would keep myself, I would find a way.
“What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know, goes away, in the end. And you could have it all, my empire of dirt, I will let you down, I will make you hurt.”
(Source: highheelsnhighhopes)
“When my friend died, I realized that death doesn’t inspire me. I was so upset about it that I wondered if my own death would. One night, I was smoking at the balcony and I started to wonder, if I were to jump, and in the midst of falling from the eleventh floor, will different forms of inspiration come gushing in? I was so depressed I would have done it if I wasn’t smoking a cigarette but something else. But I didn’t do it.”
You and I both were laying quietly in bed. Everything was perfect. The perfect temperature, the perfect position, the perfect song playing.
“We might kiss when we are alone
when nobody’s watching
we might take it home…”
Damien Rice definitely knows what he’s doing. I reached over and put my arms around you. My lower cheek brushed on your shoulder and I remembered how soft your skin was.
You were quiet. It felt like you were listening to the exact same thing I was listening to. The very pain in his voice and the pleading in his music. I frowned thinking about parting with you eventually and you pulled me closer as though telling me it was okay to feel hurt.
Your hair still smells familiar. Your skin, of soap. Not your usual perfume. I embraced that comfort; of something soft and common, human. Your every move was careful, as though you were afraid to have elbowed me accidentally. I closed my eyes and breathed on the side of your face.
When the song ended, you turned over to me and you smiled. It was a contented smile, like the song just made your life complete, like you were happy just being there with me quietly. So I kept my thoughts to myself, although I wanted to tell you how at peace I was, with you.
We didn’t need to do anything, we didn’t need to speak. But that look on your face, it was everything I ever wanted to see. It was like a still assurance, a kind of ignorant peace, the kind where nothing else mattered but you, me, and that song.
It was delicate. It was fragile. It was priceless.
Grey.
Love and hate
Syrup pancake
Lies and truths
Beats, boobs and booze
Mind and heart
Hug, kiss and fuck
you and me
In delicious tease
Dearly beloved [in the future],
I am difficult to understand and difficult to love. Knowing me often comes with a significant amount of pain. I do not enjoy seeing people hurt but I do enjoy being hurt once in a while, in order to feel and to know that what I am feeling is real.
I love when I love. When I love, it’s love. I don’t comform, I don’t give in to society’s mediocrity on the concept of relationship. I cannot. I simply will not take that path of being normal, and letting true love cease to exist. I believe that love is sacred, that it has nothing to do with money, fortune, occupation, gender, stability or compatibility. I believe that love is not to be understood, and once understood, all is lost as all never was.
I would like to kiss you good morning and goodnight, but like a bird, I would let you fly. My love for you started when you were flying free and flying free you shall remain. I don’t believe in stable relationships because I know that people live by changing. If I were to keep you close to make sure you don’t change, that would mean I am keeping you from living. I believe that people can love while being free, as long as the love is true.
I will try to make you happy while I too make myself happy. And you should do the same, make yourself happy, for I’ve stopped taking appreciation for other’s suffering. Appreciation comes when something is done out of freedom and love and not sacrifices. If you find yourself suffering, please, talk to me, don’t keep suffering because I believe if we truly love, we accept each others’ lack of.
I know I will protect you and you will protect me. For we are adult and child all at the same time. We all contradict ourselves. We all are twisted in some noble way. Or, noble in a twisted way. And I embrace that complexity or rather simplicity. I want to feel great and I want you to feel great too. That maybe this love we feel changes the world in some way.
And if you decide to go, I will beg for you to return. And if you still decide to go, I will let you with my blessings. But never leave me while you still love me. Only leave me when you no longer love me or the person I will become. And if I decide to leave you, beg me to return. If I still decide to leave, hug me and let me go for I know I will not leave you for as long as I still love you or the person you will become.
If it so happen that it comes a time when one of us no longer love the other, we must feel contented because it was once meaningful and we too must let go so as to not let the meaningless contaminate a love that was once true.
It isn’t too much to ask for for when you love me, you love me.
What if nothing I ever do, will be good enough?
At times like these, I wonder if the true reason I exist is just to amuse people. I am a joke. Whatever I do is a fucking joke.
I don’t want to be alone forever. But I don’t know where to start.
via gazed
“She’s not good enough for you. I can give you everything that you deserve.”
“Do I not deserve your love?”
(Source: gazed)
