— letters for when we fall out of love by sophie @extrasad (via cybergirlfriend)
I’m scared of a lot of things. I know I act like I’m not but I can’t help but grab your hand a little tighter during scary movies. I’m scared of drowning and falling and crashing to the ground. I’m scared of being swallowed whole. I’m scared of forgetting. So when this burns out and falls apart, I promise not to forget the way you mumble my name in your sleep if you promise not to forget the way my lips tasted when you kissed me that night in the middle of summer.
You fell in love with four girls before me. You’re going to fall in love with a lot more after me. I don’t mind when you steal all the blanket, but the redhead you meet in a coffee shop, the one who kisses the life out of you and writes bad poetry will. Try to remember to keep her warm. You make me burn. Wipe her tears when she cries and don’t listen to her when she tells you she hates you. She doesn’t mean it. I never mean it.
Baby you’re so absentminded. Someday you’re not going to want me around to remind you, so please try not to forget all your doctors appointments. Try not to forget to study. Try not to forget that I loved you. Try not to forget that I love you.
You can call me when you feel yourself falling apart. Even after you break my heart you can call me. I know one night it’s going to rain too hard and I’m going to come crawl into your lap and kiss you and you’re not going to kiss me back. And I’m going to look at you and you’re going to look away. And then you’re going to whisper that you don’t think you love me anymore. But I promise not to delete your number. I promise to put you back together. Call me when you snap.
I think you should stop smoking cigarettes. I hope the next girl who falls in love with you will love you so hard that the smoke dissolves from your lungs and maybe you won’t need your Marlboros anymore. I’m really sorry that I wasn’t enough to stop you from lighting yourself on fire.
I know that you get sad late at night. Especially when you can’t see the stars very well. Don’t forget about that little spot in the park we go to. The place where you walk up the hill and climb over the bridge because we’re not really supposed to be there, and we find ourselves on the little ledge overlooking the river. I always feel okay there. I hope you do too. Toss matches into the water. I know how you like to light you sadness on fire and watch it burn out in the waves.
I hope you still listen to all the songs I played for you years from now. I hope you don’t forget the way we used to scream the words to Molly by The Front Bottoms or the way we would hum along to I’ll Try Anything Once by The Strokes. I hope that you smile and think of me when you hear them. I hope you smile
I know you hate breakfast but please try to eat it. It’s good for you.
Don’t throw away the letters I wrote you last winter. I know that after this ends, they won’t matter anymore. Maybe for a little while, reading them will hurt. But eventually, my words won’t mean anything. You won’t even be able to hear my voice whispering the words dotting the pages in your head. Don’t throw them away okay? Don’t throw me away.
When you’re out shopping, i hope you still see things and think of me. I hope I still cross your mind sometimes. I hope you miss me a little. Even when we’re both over it all and it doesn’t hurt anymore. I hope you still remember how happy we were. How happy we are now. We’re so fucking in love. We won’t always be.
what I never— The Color of Low Self Esteem by Nayyirah Waheed (via vivatregina)
from my mother
just because someone desires you.
not mean they value you.
desire is the kind of thing that
leaves you starving.
Not really, you have to be good at coming up with ideas or innovative solutions to old problems. Nowadays there are many ways you can communicate your ideas using technology that not necessarily require an exceptional talent at drawing.
The first thing you need to know is, never underestimate what you mean to me. By the time you have the occasion to read this, I will have invested a significant portion of my life thinking, planning, anticipating, and, yes, dreaming about our life together. Not just the beginning, the wedding day, but each day until death do we part. Each moment matters - promise you will not forget that.
By the time we marry, we will probably have had a few laughs about who we thought we would wed at ages thirteen, fourteen, fifteen… But there is always the possibility that we will not be laughing about it. What if I do end up marrying the person I’m thinking about right at this moment, in 2009? You know, I think I would laugh. It is sort of amusing. However, if I am dead wrong, and “current crush” never becomes “future husband,” I’ll be happy to accept that. I will hold out for someone who knows what love means.
What does love mean to you? I’ve learned that love is commitment to the point of sacrifice. Would you sacrifice for me the things I would sacrifice for you? If love is a choice rather than a feeling, will you love me when I fail to deserve it? Can I do the same for you?
One of my deepest hopes is having children together. Sometimes, when I see little ones walking down the street with their mums and dads, I wonder what ours will look like. In my blue wallet, I keep a list of names written on a piece of paper. I’m excited about someday having the opportunity to explain what each of them means to me, and finally choosing the perfect combination.
Remember, though, that even if we end up without little sprouts or a picket fence or a rose garden, your love will still mean more than the world to me, and I hope mine will mean the same to you. The most beautiful gift I can think of would be the affection of someone who waited for me. I promise I will wait for you so that we will never live in the shadow of trying to forget exes to whom we gave everything.
Take God-given opportunities – you never know which one will bring us together. You have my faith and trust.
I love you,
Your future wife (Alliana)
Colored my hair blonde but it didn’t worket out for my hair. But fortunately, I love how it turned like.
“Because sending a letter is the next best thing to showing up personally at someone’s door. Ink from your pen touches the stationary, your fingers touch the paper, your saliva seals the envelope, your scent graces the paper. Something tangible from your world travels through machines and hands, and deposits itself in another’s mailbox; their world. Your letter is then carried inside as an invited guest. The paper that was sitting on your desk, now sits on another’s. The recipient handles the paper that you handled. Letters create a connection that modern and impersonal forms of communication will never replace.”
And that’s why I have to go back— Pablo Neruda (via thresca)
to so many places
there to find myself
and constantly examine myself
with no witness but the moon
and then whistle with joy,
ambling over rocks and clods of earth,
with no task but to live,
with no family but the road.