You Remind Me Of Home -Ben Gibbard (lead singer of Death Cab for Cutie)

Maybe in some other world we’re still in love, maybe in some other world I’m laying downstairs with you. In that other world, we’re together, right this very moment. Maybe that other world is the right world, we just chose the wrong path on accident. It was all meant to be but one little mistake changed the course of our destiny, set us off of our path. One little mistake led us away from each other. Two mistakes tore us apart. The end was inevitable after the snowball began. At least I can dream though, on these nights when I’m plagued by the perfection of the past, of our past, that in this other world we’re happy. In this other world, this world that I dream about, I make you happy. I make you as happy as I know I could now. In this world, we’re the people we’ve always wanted to be and we’re together. In this other world, I’m spending the night alone in your arms, in the very spot we used to be. We’re in the middle of that bed, there’s nothing else around us, or at least there doesn’t seem to be. The love between us is palpable and not even the most stubborn of “adults” in this world could deny our love, could deny what is undeniable. In this other world, I’d never let you go. I’d never do the things I did, the things I never knew I was doing until now. In this other world, I won’t regret ruining us. I won’t have to. In this other world, I’d spend every moment making up for things I never did, I’ll devote myself to you like I always promised I would. In this other world, that little boy will have a home, and a father that loves him more than he loves himself. In this other world, we’ll be the people we always wanted to be, together. If I had never lost you in this world, maybe I would still love myself. If I had never lost you in this world, maybe you could’ve been better. When we were thirteen, you told me that you were born to love me and you knew that, in the bottom of your heart. When we were fourteen, you told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. When we were fifteen, you told me you wanted me to be your wife, the mother of your children. When we were sixteen, you told me that we were like our life was like something out of a fairytale, that we were a love story that should be documented. Throughout all of those years, you told me you loved me. In this other world, you still love me. I still hear you whisper those words to me in the middle of the night when you think I’m sleeping.

I need to get out of this town. I need to get away from your lustful stare, the stare I know is no longer directed at me. I need to run from your eyes, the eyes the peer in to my soul without me even knowing, the eyes and heart that know me better than I know myself. It frightens me, it warms me, it enthralls me, it tears me apart at the seams. Today I found out that I’ll be singing a song, in front of a hundred or so people, the lyrics were, “If I had my way, I’d be a thousand miles away…” I thought it was funny…and kind of sad I suppose that it was obvious in my face and my actions how desperately I needed to get away. The truth is though that if I had my way, I’d be with you. We never really get our way though, do we? So, I need to get away from here. I need to get out.

my bones are your bones, my home is your home

You know I love you so.

Some times I really wonder if I'd just give it all up for you.

I really don't know how to feel about any of it. I mean, I want so much to just be happy and take my own advice about things, let what will be simply be. My mind just won't let me do that. I'm listneing to Skinny Love by: Bon Iver. The lyric I love most is, "tell my love to wreck it all, cut out all the ropes and let me fall." Yesterday, as I said, my terhapist said I analyze, over-analyze. But, how do you stop yourself from trying to protect your heart when you know that ultimately almost all of the things you love now, or at least generally romantic relationships, will undoubtedly fall apart? My guarding my heart isn't ou tof nto caring but caring too much; I could give him all, steal his heart and fill him in every way possible, but I don't because I don't want us both to fall apart when we walk away. This way he'll never know that I could have made him the happiest he has ever been, that I could have made his dreams come true.

THIS movie.

"You are the smell before the rain, you are the blood in my veins."

The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot by Brand New

Words of lust will whisper and drip from my serpentine tongue like poison when you are alone, seeping in to you and forcing your body to react.

X marks the spot where our love became impenetrable and infinite. The wind and sweet smell of renewed confidence due to each others’ beauty and adoration marked the moment I gave myself to you. Best friends was more than a title, but a promise of loyalty and place to seek heed. In my arms you will find acceptance, in my heart you will find your name. X marks the spot in the sky when God gave me my greatest gift, you.

The greatest advice I ever gave to myself, the only advice I had ever given to anyone and held on to myself was to let what will be, be. Life, it seems for at least this moment, is far more simple than I and others are making it out to be. If facts are faced, we are out of control of everything surrounding us. What we are in control of though, despite our losing track of it sometimes, is ourselves. We can control what we do and how we let those things that are out of our control affect us. What we are in control of is our willingness to respect and accept the things in life that have been thrust upon us and walk forward with our heads held higher than high.

“Freedom is wasted on animals.”

Freedom was given to animals in order to let us humans find a way to be envious of it, to long for their constant supposed ability to live by no rules. Our envy was given to us so that we may learn to overcome it and admire the simplicit beauty of it. The truth, biggest of them all, though is that wings do not change the fact that they still must walk a hard, straight line.

Love does not need to be reciprocated in order to be acknowledged and real.

Love is kind, it is true, it is forgiving but it is jealous and greedy all at the same time. It will compel you to be the greatest and worst you have ever been. It will coddle and break you. It will leave you face down on the floor as only love can. In short though, it will leave…but Love is only lost when it is disrespected and forgotten.

Love does not need to be reciprocated in order to be acknowledged and real.

Love is kind, it is true, it is forgiving but it is jealous and greedy all at the same time. It will compel you to be the greatest and worst you have ever been. It will coddle and break you. It will leave you face down on the floor as only love can. In short though, it will leave…but Love is only lost when it is disrespected and forgotten.

The sentiments I convey are merely the same thoughts I have written over and over, they are the same sentences only with different synonymous words. I re-write these thoughts because I lose sight of the things I know in my heart to be true, the only real morals I have ever lived by. My constant repetition of them is not only to remind myself to always keep them in mind but because there are days like today and feelings inside of me like I am feeling now; there are moments like this one for instance or Saturday night when all of my beliefs about kindness, friendship, love and beauty are proven to be true. These simple, incomparable moments, moments I will never forget or pray to never forget are the reason I breathe. They are the reason, if only for now, that I am so at peace.

Kindness is often found in the souls you do not know and never truly will.

Everything about her body exudes sex appeal, every unch appealing. There is a longing in her eyes, a lustful secret she is begging to tell. In her breasts lies this story, in her hips that paragraph forms. As she moans and arches her pages turn; the story insightful, flirting and crude. Her tongue holds the subtext, of love and deceit. Her thighs beg him to stay, linger at least a while longer than the last. As she turns to her side, as though avoiding a coool wind, his arms reach for her and find her frightened, longing skin. Now though, it is not the same longing he finds.

I am terribly frightened and immediately, undoubtedly horrified by the thought that I may not be able to shake my well-noted and undeniable patterns of self-loathing. In lamens terms, I'm scared that I will never be able to love myself.

The difference between you and me is that you might wear this and love it, but when you get to school you pretend that it's all over a joke and prempt an strike that may come, I wear it because I love it. Fuck what anyone else has to say...(Sometimes I wish I could say that to the insecure girl inside of me and quiet her already nearly quiet cries. I wish I was that girl.)

What drives us to hate is not our pain or feelings of indifference, it is merely our greed. It is our constant need to feel superior, to have something that no one else has, to have more of it if they do. Hatred is our unfailing and unshakeable begging for power. Hatred is no more than a passing glance to us.

My head is literally barely above water at this point and I just keep sinking lower.