Wow this is so, so perfect
I just hope that second part will eventually prove to be true(via od0nme)
You get a strange feeling when you lose someone you were intimate with. Kind of like you never want to be touched again. Or avoiding letting anyone else put their hands where theirs used to be. It becomes a strange process, letting the relationship die over and over again until you can stop hating anything that comes into contact with you that isn’t them. You resent the shower because all the hot water makes you feel like your body was never theirs. You quit masturbating because their fingers were the last inside of you and you want to keep it that way. You want your insides to become a relic of all the ways they loved you. So it becomes a funny process, you have to bury them and dig them up for every new old thing that you do without them. You kiss another person and think it’s the worst kind of betrayal. You’re angry at your mouth for enjoying it, you’re angry at your mouth for wanting more, and you’re angry at yourself for forgetting what their lips tasted like. That’s how it happens, you barely notice at first. It starts with tiny little things, you forget how they looked in the morning, you forget how their own brand of stubble felt between your thighs, you move on and it’s terrifying and it’s glorious but more than that, it’s freeing. Because you thought you’d never have that again, you’d never want someone so much that it felt like drowning and gasping for air was the most wonderful thing you’d ever done.
So it’s okay, you can say ‘I am so scared that I will never love someone like I loved you’ when they leave, but it won’t be true. It won’t come close to true. Months from now you’ll be in a dark room with another person who turns your body into a lit match and there will be a litany of ‘fucks’ falling in procession from your mouth and they will be more a part of you than anyone has ever been and you’ll feel glorious and more than that, you’ll feel safe. And here is what you’re going to think: I had that moment with you and I am thankful for it. That is it.
I firmly believe in small gestures: pay for their coffee, hold the door for strangers, over tip, smile or try to be kind even when you don’t feel like it, pay compliments, chase the kid’s runaway ball down the sidewalk and throw it back to him, try to be larger than you are— particularly when it’s difficult. People do notice, people appreciate. I appreciate it when it’s done to (for) me. Small gestures can be an effort, or actually go against our grain (“I’m not a big one for paying compliments…”), but the irony is that almost every time you make them, you feel better about yourself. For a moment life suddenly feels lighter, a bit more Gene Kelly dancing in the rain.
|Daisy:||How old were you when you had your first kiss?|
|Carnation:||If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer?|
|Jasmine:||What color looks best on you?|
|foxglove:||Name three facts about your family?|
|Allium:||What's the best thing you can cook?|
|Orange Blossom:||If you could pick the gender and appearance of your child, would you?|
|Calla Lily:||If you died right now, what song would you want to play at your funeral?|
|Poinsettia:||Favorite holiday dish?|
|Oxlip:||Would you ever get into a long distance relationship?|
|Primrose:||Favorite kind of soup?|
|Daffodil:||What's the most thoughtful present you've ever received?|
|Rose:||Are you currently in love with someone?|
|Amsonia:||Would you ever become a vegan?|
|Peony:||What's your favorite hot beverage?|
|Tulip:||For your birthday, what kind of cake do you ask for?|
|Myrtle:||Do you like going on airplanes?|
|Hibiscus:||Did you ever play an instrument? If so what?|
|Zinnia:||Who was your best friend when you were six years old?|
|Poppy:||What color was your childhood home?|
|Violet:||Do you like where you're from?|
|Locust:||What was your favorite book as a child?|
|Rhododendron:||What's the scariest dream you've ever had?|
|Queen Anne's Lace:||Would you rather carve pumpkins or wrap presents?|
|Magnolia:||Favorite kind of candy?|
|Aster:||Would you rather be cold or hot?|
|Marigold:||Do you listen to what's on the radio?|
|Heliconia:||Do you like when it rains?|
|Azalea:||What's a movie you cried while watching?|
|Dandelion:||Do you think you're important?|
"I hate you. You hurt me so fucking much and you expect me to be fine."
"I can’t be your friend. This sucks, I can’t do it."
"I love you. I think."
"Jesus I fucking miss you."
"I hate sleeping alone."
"Do you even miss me at all?"
"Talk to me. Please. Please. Please."
"Why did you leave? Was it all my fault? Please come back. Sorry I’m so pathetic."
"I’m really mad at you, idk what to do."
"I’m sorry. Idk what for but I’m sorry."
September 14th. 2:01AM.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. I miss you so fucking much, I don’t know what to do without you. I’ve been crying for hours and this alcohol tastes like shit but it’s your favorite.”
September 15th. 1:15AM.
“Do you remember the time you told me I had stardust in my veins and I was more beautiful than anything in the universe? Well you fucking lied. There’s blood all over and everything’s covered in red and it smells like old pennies. Why aren’t you here?”
September 16th. 12:02AM.
“Fuck, I’m so tired. I know I shouldn’t of taken that bottle of sleeping pills and I really shouldn’t have drank that bottle of vodka. My stomachs on fire and I can’t breath, fuck I love you more than anything.”
September 18th. 4:03PM.
“I just got back from the hospital. They had me on 24 hour suicide watch. I tried to explain to them that I wasn’t trying to kill myself, I was just trying to kill the part of me that still loves you. I’m sorry.”