clandestinity

I don’t know why I’m not trying enough anymore..

"We are infinite"

"We are infinite"

On days I miss you, my inside burns. In the pit of my stomach it burns like a smoldering coal. I don’t know what I miss about you and I don’t even like it, but it is there deep rooted and it doesn’t disappear, and it didn’t hurt any less.

On days I miss you, I miss you from the inside out.

You are missed.

You are missed.

I don’t know if it’s morally wrong to think about people you’re not supposed to, if it’s okay to care about ghosts from the past even after you moved on happily and blissfully with a new existence in your life. I don’t know if it’s juridically unfair to the love of your life, if it appears to be some form of betrayal, even the most subtle.

But eventually,I made peace with it, and i figured; The heart can show so much affection in so many places, to so many people. And I think that once you cared, no matter where you go you don’t stop. An estranged friend, an ex-boyfriend, a neighbour from your childhood, a distant relative, an aquaintance. You think of them from time to time. Maybe it’s out of habit, or maybe it’s just pure human’s inborn inquisitive nature. I hope it is alright to feel this way. I really think it is.

Because, because if it isn’t, I don’t know what else to think of it.
If it starts to mean anything.

  ‘I start by saying
   I can never
   Rest in peace

   To set myself free
   I would have to lose you
   Break you. Destroy you
   In a cold-blood murder
   While I die slowly..

   To set myself free
   I have to get rid of
   Cowardice. Of selfishness.
   Which I can’t.

   There will be no excuses
   Good enough. No sorry
   Too big. No forgiveness
   Too easy. No scars
   Too invisible.

   I would tell you
   I love you
   Only that doesn’t make sense
   Anymore.

   This heart carries
   the burden of Two
   I don’t know if
   I have enough dark in me
   To keep this facade
   And what you don’t know,

   Is how light
   Ignorance weighs,
   What ignorance is bliss
   Really means.’

(From a long, long time ago)

Since when has love ever looked for reasons, or evidence? Why would love bow to the reality of things, when it creates a reality of its own, so much more vivid, wherein everything resonates to the key of the heart?

—Paul Murray, Skippy Dies (via helplesslyamazed)

(Source: quote-book)

The truth is she is scared shitless, of how she might start saying things that are accustomed to be heard, to do things that are expected out of her, and that one day she could no longer draw the line between how she should feel and how she really feels, and become the stringed puppet that is being tugged and pulled along by this idea of love, of fear, and of conscience.

There are however, two things she is clear about.

That no matter what the outcome is, this is going to hurt. And that she decides, that he is worthy of every bit of her pain.

"But I took your matches before your fire could catch me So don’t look now I’m shining like fireworks Over your sad, empty town" Taylor swift, Dear John