Meryl Streep is on the tv. Her nose is pointed. Her front tooth crooked. She’s good. I sat in a bra and underwear, no wait…that came later. I was in pajamas. My phone vibrated. Can I make a preposterous proposal? I wait. I feel the warm shot go down. I’m not stopping you. And I didn’t. I get up and pull on my jean shorts. I flick on the bathroom light and throw back the last of the mouth wash. I walk back to my room and paint thin lines with liquid liner and brush on mascara, as if the mouthwash wasn’t obvious enough. Then I wait. The heat sits in my stomach. Ooh I’m excited. I’m looking at my phone, but you know better. I hear the door open a little and I breathe in. Oh hey. Hey. You are beautiful.
in 4 days I will probably cry of happiness because everything will be DONE and come Monday I am on my way to cape cod to do nothing but sleep and severely enjoy myself
i don’t ask you to love me always like this,
but i ask you to remember.
somewhere inside me
there’ll always be the person
i am tonight.
(Source: quote-book)
Whatever life gives you, even if it hurts you, just be strong and act like you’re okay. Remember: strong walls shake but never collapse.
Hoping for the best. This won’t be easy.
One foot right in front of the other
Let me weep in your arms
and be the one to marry
Wake up in a bed and breakfast
You go your whole life thinking that you need to be happy independently. And hell yea you do. But aren’t we all searching for that multiplied happiness? Like a body cut in half searching to complete its soul. I question the timing of it, I question the likelihood of it and i question the honesty of it. But one thing leads me to answers. It’s letting go. It’s not listening. It’s not black and white. It’s shades of grey and utter silence. Its knowing that I don’t feel right. I don’t feel at peace when it’s just me. This is how I feel now and it’s the most real.
So back the fuck off.
Big things start with little decisions
Maybe the reason I can’t write anything is because the same ideas have been swirling around in my head for two years. Ideas that are stamped with your face, our music, my perfume. Ideas I hate. Things I love. Monotonous. I hate it. Constant questioning.
I imagine death will come for me sort of like the galloping of raised highway lines as tires roll across them. Humming like a fan, putting me to sleep.
