lust for words

So caffeine isn’t the only thing keeping me awake
these days, and maybe that’s why I write you as coffee: 
bitter on the nights you’re not here, 
alone in these freshly washed bed sheets. 
And then you’re cinnamon with all that sweet, 
something to make my mouth water, to crave. 
I guess it’s bittersweet, those lemon lips that melt 
like sugar against mine, something worth waiting for, 
a taste I’ll get twenty hours from now. 
Those viridian eyes are deep enough to drown in 
so give me time to catch my breath 
before you pull me under. 
Even the strongest swimmers can get caught up
in a current, and you’re pretty good
at throwing me off course. 
Keep knocking the air from my lungs, remind me 
I’m still breathing. And when you hold me in your arms, 
I know I have a reason to. 

- Bittersweet // Danielle Paige 

I grew up thinking that in order to live a happy life, I had to get good grades and go to a prestigious university and get a highly paid job. But as I grew older I began to realise that in order to life a happy life, I had to choose it for myself and not live a life that others expect of me, whether it be your parents, teachers or friends. This is your life.

I made a decision that I didn’t want to be successful and live in a big house with fancy cars in the drive. So, I packed my bags and got out of this little town that had suffocated me for the last 18 years and drank coffee in small shops in Germany, chased the Horizon in Australia, woke up with a mountain view in Singapore. How beautiful is it to know that your feet have walked the grounds of many different countries and your skin has felt the air of many busy cities.

Please darling, do not get lost in society’s belief that you are only successful if you have a well paid job, like I once had. As humans, we are going to die, that is one thing we are guaranteed in life. What will you care about the most while lying on your death bed, your fancy cars, big house? Or the stories and experience you have encountered on the journey of this beautiful thing called life?

So there’s one thing I ask of you: please travel. Whether you’re 21 or 49. It is never too early nor too late so see the beautiful world.

—  i-wonder-lust 
me and you
i think about it all the time
us curdled up post love making on the couch
you tell me i think we should get married
i laugh at the mere idea and say lets just sleep for now
but i see the seriousness in your eyes and i know there is just a matter of time
decades of platonic infatuation accompanied by these years of complete romantic adoration
can only lead to one inevitable fate
i wake up the next morning, long after you and walk out to the porch of our one bedroom apartment
it’s a sunday
i can hear you in the kitchen, making my coffee like you do every sunday
you hate coffee
the ambience of the sun reflects the swelling of my heart when i realize it
i am going to marry you
me and you forever
—  but right now it is a friday night, i am alone and you are with him
Can you trust him?” She asks, the cigarette dangling from her fingers. “Can tell him anything without feeling judged? Can you call him and know he’ll answer, or call back as soon as he can? If you’re hurt, and I mean really hurt, will he drop everything and get to you as soon as he can? Will he be there for you when someone you love dies? Will he look after you if you’re sick? Will he hold your hair back after too many tequilas? Will he be there? Does he try to see you, even if he has work early or a busy week?” She holds my gaze as she brings the cigarette to her berry lips. “If the answer is no to any of those things, maybe he’s not the one?
—  Excerpt from the book I’ll never write// alter ego advice
Be patient with someone who’s been hurt multiple times. Just because you haven’t completely melted their cold heart doesn’t mean there aren’t any cracks in the ice.
—  Words-and-Feelings

I remember being 9 and I had to write a short fairytale story for homework. I wrote a beautiful story, about a girl who grew up and fell in love with a boy (or girl, although I was 9 at the time and didn’t know anything other than heterosexual relationships). But I could never think of an ending. I handed it in, and my English teacher asked me why it wasn’t finished.

I was 16 when I fell in love with a boy who was an amazing person, but the universe decided it wasn’t meant to be. But I think, out of all the heartbreak and tragedy, I finally found an ending to my story:

Our stories are not destinations, they do not need to end in happy endings. Maybe the endings are who we become because of our experiences. Endings don’t have to be “and they lived happily ever after”, maybe they just have to be “and she tried, it didn’t work, but she’s happy within herself”.

—  i-wonder-lust 

Our love is a dangerous one.

We feel pain.
We feel deeply.
We feel nothing.

And yet we feel everything.

—  dearestmemory