It’s been quiet for sometime after Jinyoung left. Whether he did what I asked or not he never said anything. I do miss Youngjae though. He’s been nothing but helpful. With my back still facing the entrance, I hear shuffling and hurried steps.
“Jinyoung, I don’t need you back to make a scene—”
You’re like my favorite band,
I can’t stop listening with each and every word you have,
It’s like the words coming out from your mouth,
got the antidote that can heal my broken heart,
And I would love to hear myself,
singing the words made truly
My art teacher once said:
“Don’t fall in love with artists.
They are broken. They are misunderstood.
They’d color your life with all the brightest colors,
Then they’ll bring you thunderstorms and rain,
They’d bring you pain, suffering and disaster,
Then they’ll bring you flowers and sunshine.
They’re too dark, they’re too pure,
They’re too raw or just insecure.
Their souls are crushed, their minds are crowded
They’d smile while burying you alive
They’d laugh while waving their last goodbye.”
“Be careful when you paint, be careful when you write, focus on your thoughts, don’t let them tear you apart.
You know even the smallest mistake can mess everything up.”
Same thing with people.
Don’t run into love if you’ve never been loved,
It’ll break your heart too soon,
Don’t think your loved one will wait for you forever
If you keep on changing your mind,
Your dearly beloved will find his soulmate
And all the things you’ve done for him,
all the words you’ve said,
Will feel like they never even existed.
Oh, darling, a love you’ve never had will break your heart more than any shitty lover could.
Be passionate, be artistic, be raw
Love forever, kiss like never, die together.
“When you write, be exciting, be raw, make one sentence long, next one short, make them sound fast, make the reader’s breath stop.”
Same thing with life.
Live your life like a movie,
Talk like a poem,
Think like a book,
Make your life a story worth telling,
Make your life a book worth selling,
Make your life a poem worth listening.
But I never listened…
I made my life a movie - but a movie you’d never watch,
I talked like a poem - but like a shitty one
I thought like I was writing a book - but not the good one.
My art teacher said:
“Don’t fall in love with artists,
They’re toxic, they’re like a grenade,
They’re dying inside,
They got feelings they can’t hide,
They cry and can’t sleep at night.”
That wasn’t only the lover I wanted to have,
That was also the person I wanted to become.
So I worked on myself, I worked on my art,
I worked day and night,
And few years later, i’m better at making art
But I fell apart
And I still can’t sleep at night.
I started looking for my soulmate
A guy or a girl who could heal my wounds and my broken bones,
Someone who’d love like there’s no tomorrow.
I fell in love with an artist,
And i bought one way ticket to disaster,
Bought one way ticket to suicide of my own mind,
Yeah, i buried myself alive.
Don’t fall in love with artists // excerpt from a book i’ll never write #4
Months went by. Finley healed my broken heart. I soon came to love him, and he loved me. I asked him to move in and he excitedly agreed. Fin got into the police academy, Dex continued to work nights at the bar, and I tended our garden and sold my paintings. The three of us fell into routines and we were happy.
But as I hold you in my hand you once again bleed; old wounds torn open, new wounds raw and vivid against achromatic flesh.
I examine the damage. Once a pure canvas, you are now a war zone, disfigured by the stories you will never tell.
I count the bruises first, trace a finger along your scars, some more faded than others. My finger rests on the one from the first time you were hurt. It was always the deepest one, wasn’t it? I don’t need to look closely to know it still weeps. To know it never healed like you pretended it did.
You were so quick to forgive, to trust again.
You begged to lay upon my sleeve. I warned you against it, that it would make you too vulnerable, but you insisted. You believed in the hearts of others, in the goodness of them. You believed all hearts were the same as you.
You believed in love, for is that not what you were made for?
But you didn’t know how cruel other hearts could be.
You were a soldier on the frontline and you battled hard against the ones who tried to bring you down. Over and over I stitched your wounds until you were a patchwork heart, held together with little more than frayed thread and faltered hope, and yet on my sleeve you stayed and fought until there was too much blood and not enough thread and I placed you back in my chest, determined to keep you safe.
But dear heart, you were so stubborn, and though I told you, “No more!” I could not keep you in my chest, so determined you were to prove me wrong. To prove the power of forgiveness, grace, second chances, unconditional love.
But you weren’t healed. You weren’t ready.
And this time, the wound struck too deep. You couldn’t get back up.
Now you lay limp in my hands, surrendered, defeated. I zigzag the thread through your wounds, pull them closed, hope my saltwater tears cleanse the place where his words plunged into your fragile core.
Precious heart, you have withered, paled, turned cold and stone-like. You no longer believe in love, or in the goodness of other hearts.
But I will keep you safe in me, and you will heal. Soon, the bleeding will stop. Your wounds will become scars, and they will fade with time, reminders of how strong you really are. With each new day I will hear the sound of your resolve as you beat harder against my chest.
Dear heart, I am proud of you. You are right to believe in love and to fight for it.
Don’t allow the ugliness that resides in others take away the beauty in you.
The world is full of hearts like you. Kind hearts, merciful hearts, brave hearts, compassionate hearts, generous hearts, forgiving hearts, loving hearts.
And when you find them, you will know recognize them.
For they too bear the scars of a warrior.
Foolish and determined, just like you, to believe that love can heal a broken world.
Kathy Parker (To My Foolish Heart:Keep Fighting; Elephant Journal; edited by Emily Bartran) @elephantjournal
1. You smelled just like the hand soap my mom bought for our downstairs bathroom. It was my first kiss, and even then I knew you were built on mistakes. Your foreign hands ran over my untouched skin and all I could think about was your girlfriend. Before anything else, I was the other woman. I was 15.
2. We got drunk in a strangers basement and made out on the pool table. You were short and sweet and your tongue felt like a pillow against mine. I laughed between each kiss, wishing this could be something, wishing we could be something, wishing we weren’t from two separate worlds.
3. You were the first man I was scared of. The first man to pin me to a wall and kiss me, the first man to drive me around in his passenger seat and steer with no hands, the first man to roughly force his fingers into places they shouldn’t have been. Every time I smell a cigarette I think of you. Every time I see the color red I think of you.
4. You gave me your sweatshirt with a hand-written note in it. For three weeks, I believed in us. For three weeks, your eyes melted every time they looked at me. For three weeks, we were almost in love. Three weeks went by and then you were gone.
5. You were all: soft kisses, strong hands, quiet laughter, hidden secrets, big shoes, mixed emotions. We had our first kiss on a black leather couch in the middle of a suburban summer. When I went to college, I told you I missed you. You said, ‘How? It’s only been a week.’ I didn’t have the guts to tell you that I missed you every time I breathed.
6. Here’s the best way to put it: you set me on fire. You lit me from the ground until my whole body burned with the thought of you. Your eyes softened every time you looked at something you loved - your dog, your grandmother, even me, sometimes, which made my heart rip from the seams. You kissed me by a creek and your hands were shaking. 'I can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about doing that,’ you told me.
7. You loved me in the summertime, as we roamed the mountains in Northern California. We would go on walks and name each rock we saw, laughing and laughing and laughing. We made love on a cliff with the stars freckled above us, both of us full of nerves and mischievous thoughts. You loved me so well and I was too stupid to know. I was too stupid to hold on to you.
8. You kissed me in my first apartment over hard cider and a home cooked meal. We were so wrong for each other, but here we were, spending days at a time holed up in your Brooklyn apartment, following the maps of each other’s bodies for hours on end. We’d fight until tears tore down our walls. We’d fight until there were no more words left to be said. We’d fight until there was nothing left in us.
9. My darling, we fell in love so quickly, didn’t we? Just two kids with stars in their eyes and a new sense of worth. Everything seemed beautiful in your eyes, including me. 'You are so beautiful,’ you’d tell me. 'You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.’ For two years you were everything. For two years I tried to fill every hole in your heart. One day, it became clear that my love wasn’t enough to heal every broken piece of you.
10. 'I like this,’ you said. 'Being here, with you.’ I held your hand as the sun came up, and wondered how many times we’ve pretended like we could be something more than what we were. I knew better but sometimes I liked to imagine us together, thirty years from now, waking up in the same bed. It was all pretend. It was all pretend.
11. We sat on a bench in Central Park, counting dogs and wondering if it was worth giving this a shot. You kissed me so softly, like I could have broken in your hands at any moment. I appreciated feeling fragile for once. It had been so long since someone had seen me as anything but strong.
12. We took a walk around the airport hotel in the middle of Ireland. I was flying back to New York the next morning and thought of every single way I could just stay here with you instead. Here you were: tall and beautiful with the softest soul I had ever seen. 'There are so many things I want to do with you, so many things I want to see,’ you whispered into the dip of my neck. It wasn’t the right time, we agreed. Maybe someday. But maybe not.
RATING: T—> mentions of sex, nothing too detailed, I think!
NOTES/WARNINGS: This is the LAST chapter. There is, however, more to this story, it will continue on my writing blog: @the-resawrites. Sorry if there are any typos. Thank you for reading and liking. As always likes, comments, reblogs are greatly appreciated! :)
Thor was able to send Nina to Vanaheim by convincing Heimdall, only if the Allfather found out she was doing this he’d probably see it as treason. Nina wanted to risk it and was sent to Vanaheim. When she got there she appeared in the woods, there was no main path in sight or other things, just thousands of trees.
The sun began going down and Nina was still in search for someone in the woods. She was about to give up when she saw a cave with torches lit up on the walls, showing a path. Whether it was the person or not, Nina ran to the cave, entering hesitantly as more torches began lighting themselves, showing that the cave was even deeper.
Nina followed. When she reached the end an old wooden door was opened lightly with more light coming from the room behind the door. She opened the door slowly, slipping inside before closing the door. Something fell on the floor, frightening Nina as she backed against the door.
I know it’s real when I overthink about you in every fucking single moment
I know it’s real when you cross my mind way more than you should
I know it’s real when I can’t stop putting your name in every song I hear
And when the only thing that can heal my broken heart is your voice
I love the twinkle in your eyes, your pure smile, your lips, your soft hands your touch, your smell your baby skin the mole on your cheek I fucking adore every single inch of you
Baby you’re my favorite blessing.
I am going to jump off the sea, not to swim, but to save you, i know you’re drowning and you need someone who will save you. I will hold your hand and never let you feel alone so that you can feel that there’s someone out there who cares for you. I am going to be your bandage to hide the scar, the pillow that you’ll hug at night when you’re crying yourself to sleep at night. I will even let you punch the wall,listen as you scream at the bottom of your lungs. I am going to be the doctor who will heal you. No words can describe how i feel, to have finally, finally found you….a person who’s heart is broken yet made me fall in love. How could you be so beautiful with your eyes full of tears. I don’t want to see you cry but i know those tears will help you feel better though i know not every tear heals a sore. I am going to be there, not to fix your broken heart, but to be there by your side to help you love yourself. I won’t be afraid to touch your scars, i don’t care if i’ll end up vulnerable, it’s okay as long as i have you. I know it’s not easy on your part to let me see you in all your cracked perfection, but please know that whether it’s the days you burn more than the sun, no matter how many times you let yourself drown in pain, or how you let me see your broken body falling apart, you are still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I will love you when you can’t even love yourself. I love you at your worst. I won’t use a glue to fix and mend your broken heart. I won’t say any word just to make you feel better. But instead, i will love you and my love will make you heal your broken heart. I love you despite of your broken heart.