“yes, someone who naturally emits sparkles and rainbows without any given effort lol like you.”
was that a reference? i totally dont get the reference ackkkk
lol what the duck is up with the sudden…. ackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
does anybody here even miss me? hahahah talk about hiatus
Tagged for #coloredbooktag by @drnn_jn and the color is blue :) And yes i just had to arrange them in gradient.
— (via chanel-cigaretttes)
I love you, but please,
don’t expect me
to look straight in your eyes.
Instead, I’ll watch your lips
purse and twitch
showing a playful smirk
as I listen to the quiet sigh
you exhale out your nose.
Don’t expect me to keep
my eyes locked on yours,
for I’ll be busy studying
the way you run your fingers
through your hair
and wonder what it smells like
(I’ve been choosing between
pomegranate and apricot,
and I bet you smell as sweet as they do).
You can never catch me looking at you.
Instead, you’ll find yourself wondering
why I scrutinizingly stare at your neck;
watching it perspire; waiting for you
to wipe the sweat off.
I love it like I’d rather
watch your jaws
drop with amazement,
and the way you clench them
when you get mad.
I love you, but please,
don’t expect me to feed
your beautiful, hungry eyes
with mine looking back.
I’d rather look at them closed at 3 a.m.
whenever my eyes ache to stare
at your beauty, and listen
to the beat of your heart
within the dawn’s serenity.
I love you, but please,
don’t expect my eyes
to always meet yours.
I’d rather burn my skin,
than to melt my soul
with your fervent gazes.
— I’m sorry. I just can’t help it. (via callowaine)
— Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters (via petrichour)
if i could go back to one moment in my life, it would be when i said goodbye to you. goodnight, rather. it wasn’t even a farewell. it was more of a get-well-soon-get-lots-of-sleep-greeting, not really a sacred moment of two people who love each other, seeing each other for the last time ever. i told you goodnight, sleep well, regain your faltering health, and the next day when i received a text saying that you were already gone, half of my heart seemed to crumble and die with you. i’m not going to talk about the past, when you were here, but on this day, exactly a year since i have lost you, i am going to ponder upon what it’s like without you.
for two whole weeks, i cried- seeking comfort and whatever warmth i could find from the people around me. i went to different people’s houses, just not mine, because the thought of it empty of your presence was too painful to bear. every night, when i got home, i cried myself to sleep. every night. lying on the bed without your warmth made it even worse. but then, on the thirteenth day, i realized that perhaps this is better. you were suffering so much, back then, and maybe you’re happy, wherever you were. i stopped crying. or so i thought. every time i feel sad and lonely, my thoughts always go back to you, because you were always the one who used to cheer me up. i miss you, and i still love you, and i wish that you never left. but i’m old enough to understand that death is a part of our lives. you died, perhaps for a reason. perhaps to teach me to stand on my own, to keep fighting even though all of the odds and the chances are against my favor. your death taught me how to cope up on my own, how to make my cold hands warm again, how to start believing that i can stand up on my own again. although i miss you, i have finally accepted why you had to die.
one year of grieving is enough, i guess. but understand that my sorrow will forever be extended, until i finally feel your warmth here beside my soul, once again.
She spoke of how flowers are beautiful, looking at the pictures of an encyclopedia. 4 whole pages, different kinds of flowers, and she was admiring every single one while I was reading about the Middle East. I could hear the soft turning of her pages. One. Two. Three. Four. And then quickly, as if in a hurry, one two three four. That made me look up from what I was reading.
"Something wrong?" I asked her.
"I can’t find my favorite flowers." she said with a pout.
"Are you sure they’re not in there?"
“Yeah, no statices…” she seemed a little bit sad. I stood, walked to the many rows of bookshelves in the library, and returned with a little book, no bigger than both of my palms. It was called ‘The Flowers That Never Died,’ by some author long-forgotten. She lit up when she saw the book.
"They’re statices!" she said with a laugh. "When they wilt, they still look alive. Although brittle, the colors are of life." she read.
We spent the next few hours reading different books- I think I saw her with a book about fish, but she always held the little statice book in her hands. Later on, she borrowed the book and signed it up on the counter. I have a feeling she’s never going to return it. Thinking about buying her the same book, she hooked her left arm around my right.
"So, what did you learn?" she asked me.
"Statices are your favorite flowers." I answered, a little bit too confidently.
"About the Middle East, silly. You have a report coming next week, right?" oh, yes. I forgot about that. I smiled at her, and she smiled back- smacking my head with tte borrowed book at the same time.