her story was heartbreaking

Your eyes aren’t even blue but yet, they still remind me of the ocean.
—  excerpt from a book I will never write #74
I knew that you were it for me. I fucking knew you were the one I was supposed to hold onto for good this time, and I still couldn’t do that.
—  g.e. // March 31st
If he loves you, he will make the effort.
—  relationships aren’t always 50/50. There are times when you will get up & feel like giving 10%. Then your partner has to give the remaining 90%. But there must always be 100% love.

“How do you do it?” She asked, tears staining her eyes a light shade of crimson.

“I don’t.” He replied flatly.

Her eyes flashed from the floor to his face and painfully met his. She stared at him, clearly confused and hurt.

“You think that i’m doing just fine without you but i’m not, i’m not fine but i know better than to ever get back with you. You’ve hurt me too much and i’ve finally learned my self worth. So i’m sorry to say it, but this is goodbye.” He sighed before reaching for his bag and heading out the door, never to come back again.

—  moving on /
The people who are interested in my personality don’t find my appearance suitable with their taste.
The people who find my appearance attractive don’t have enough patience to get to know my personality.
The people who are both into my appearance and my personality either can’t connect to me on a deeper level or whom I don’t find attracted to.
—  Why I am still single

“How would you describe him?” They ask me.

“He’s perfect,” I say.

“No one is perfect.”

“Perfect is the only way to describe him. He isn’t nice, he’s so much more than that. He isn’t handsome, handsome doesn’t describe his boyish smile or his dreamy tall frame or his adoring black hair. He isn’t just a good listener, because I loved to hear him tell his own stories too. And he doesn’t just have a nice voice, that doesn’t describe his fruity laugh or the way he speaks when he talks about what he loves. I could go on forever, but when I think of perfect, my mind goes straight to him.”

—  a.a.
yet because he’s truly not perfect, I love him even more… m.k.j.
It’s time to let her go. The way that she looked at me, the way that she giggled when I said I loved her–I have to let it go. The way her eyes glowed, the way she made me feel like everything’s gonna be okay–I have to let it go. Because that’s who she was, not who she is.
—  LA // excerpt from a book I’ll never write
Do you wanna know how I let him go?
I did get over him. Not because he doesn’t like me or because I don’t love or care about him anymore, I still do. I moved on because I realized the person I cared about so much: didn’t exist anymore. The boy I loved? He didn’t exist anymore. I realized that people change.
—  People Change
It’ll take a while,
To lose all the feelings I have for you,
To forget everything that happened.
But I’m getting there,
I promise.
Soon you’ll be just a memory,
Just some boy I used to know.
—  E.T // you’ll be just somebody I used to know
Your eyes weren’t blue as the ocean. Your hair wasn’t stroked through. Your shirt wasn’t always tucked in. Your smile didn’t always make me smile. Your words didn’t always make mine stutter.
Your eyes were brown which shone through and told many stories.
Your hair reminded me of that cheekiness that you always had.
Your shirt smelt like you had rolled in beautiful flowers for hours.
Your smile reminded me that I was safe. You were happy. And I was safe.
When I heard you speak, you did not make me want to scream. You did not scare me. I never turned away from you. I guess your words calm me down.
You’re my home. You may not seem perfect to anyone else but you’re my home.
You are my home.
—  excerpt from a book I will never write #36
To her future love,

When she says she’s tired, sometimes she means that she’s just tired of life; other times she means her eyes are closing but her brain won’t quiet long enough to sleep. Either way, take her to bed, put her in some comfy clothes, and hold her until she falls asleep. Rub her head and talk to her when she has a nightmare so she won’t wake up crying. You won’t hear a thank you, but the sigh of relief she makes in her sleep will make your heart flutter. 

If you come home and she’s in the bathtub, wearing yesterday’s clothes and crying her makeup off, don’t let her apologize to you. She’s having a bad day and if she gets out the initial “I’m sorry” her eyes will stream “I’m worthless” for hours after. Just pick her up, hug her, and tell her you love her like it’s the last thing that you’ll say to her. It’s not the glue that holds her together but it lets her know you love her even at her worst. I promise, it’s so worth it just to be with her. 

When she gets excited about something, she’ll want to fill every silence with it, but she’ll stop herself because at one point someone told her that nobody cared; she carries that burden with her still. Let her whole body fill with excitement until her eyes shine and her smile lights up the room, and just before she looks away, tell her you want to listen. If you thought she was beautiful before, oh god your knees will go weak. 

She sleeps naked and by naked I mean stripped down to underwear and raw emotion. By naked I mean not perfect but utterly breathtaking, and trying to cover herself up because she doesn’t believe any of the compliments you’ll give her. And by naked I mean unapologetically honest but still guarded and terrified that she’ll make a home in your heart that may one day stop beating for her. Don’t let her go to bed without telling her she’s everything and proving it by making her face glow and her legs shake. 

She is full of so much life and light, and the only way you’ll get to know is by being there: listening, watching, singing along to songs you barely know and driving so far the radio turns to static. 

Fall in love with her completely and fully. Fall in love with her smile, her choices, her imagination. Fall in love with her body and what she’s done within it but also what she’s done with it. Love her forgiveness, and how she’s taken thousands of steps since she said she couldn’t take one more. Love her ribcage for protecting her big heart that has ached and hurt but can’t be broken. Love all of her. It won’t be hard; she’s irresistible. She’ll be an angel in your life, but you have to create a heaven for her too. Angels don’t live in hell.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul.
So, through my eyes can you see me having a burning desire for your presence?
Through my eyes can you see me yearning for your touch?
Through my eyes can you sense the loneliness in my aura?
Through my eyes can you see that my soul craves to listen to your heartbeat?
Through my eyes can you see how bits of my soul is deteriorating within its walls?
Through my eyes can’t you see that I just miss you.
I guess you can’t.
—  unspoken feelings from a broken magician. // Through my eyes.
We broke so easily. Like it was nothing. Like we were nothing. Does that mean it was never meant to be in the first place? That we were an accident of fate? If we were meant to be, how could we both walk away just like that?
I guess the answer is, we weren’t.
—  Excerpt from “P.S. I still love you” by Jenny Han
A friend of mine confessed that if he had the chance to love me, he’d have done so much better than him, better than the one who was nearly my entire world for the last three years, better than the one who left me as less than I am. And it is to this friend that I want to write a letter, but there’s really nothing I could even think to say. Do I tell him that I’m afraid to let a man come close enough to own me again? Do I tell him that a part of me really and truly wants nothing more than to be loved? Do I attempt to show him with ink and a bleeding heart the place that I feel trapped in today? I don’t think that I’m ready to be loved yet.
—  🖤