please leave a message after she’s gone // ❝ Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences // It’s scary to think that there are words meant for me but were never said to me.

He told me that when he met me for the first time, he thought, “In another life, this is the type of woman I should marry.”'

'Whenever you feel like criticizing any one," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.'


Martin Margiela, i-D April 1998


Lars Laumann

'You can tell so much about a person by the way they leave you.'

1. Today I learned that there are 3 signs for heartbreak
2. Why does it hurt when I think about you
3. I still love you


I keep writing these for you, but you’re gone, and you’re not coming back. // please don’t remove this credit, or the source, okay? okay. 

'She is a year ago.
She is the ache in the empty,
the first time you changed your mind
and the last time you were sorry about it.
She is a city sleeping beside you,
warm and vast and familiar, streetlights
yawning and stretching,
and you have never. You have never.
You have never loved someone like this.
She is your first stomach ache.
Your first panic attack and your
favorite cold shower.
A mountain is moving somewhere
inside of you, and her handprints are all over it.
Here. Here. Here, you love her.
In the fractured morning, full of
too tired and too sad, she is the first
foot that leaves the bed.
She is the fight in you, the winning
and the losing battle
floating like a shipwreck in your chest.
When they ask you what your favorite moment is,
You will say Her.
You will always say Her.


Beach // San Cisco

Tonight the moon talked back said, ‘The night is for lovers, so why are you still awake?’
The stars started to laugh and
I closed my window."

it took too long
you said goodbye
felt far from good
fought best I could
never thought you would

You’re a ghost and I’m a ghost, and what we both want most is to feel alive."

You’re not on T.V. Not everyone is looking at you, and judging what you say or do. Wear your skin like it is the rarest brand of clothing. Speak your words like they are worth being said." -

"Hoping that I made the right choices,
drearily dreaming of all possible pasts. 
Perhaps had I passed on that tea and had coffee
the waitress might have asked me
“Sugar or cream?”
and I’d be in love." a million finish lines i’m afraid to cross 

I should never have gone, but now I should go, I never thought you would leave but now I’ll leave you alone

And maybe the stars do sometimes align when you least expect it— in the right place, at the right time,

I want you to miss me. I want you to recognise me in your morning cereal and the voice of your favourite singer. I want you to wonder where I am when your fingers are stretched beneath your waistband, when you’re lighting up, when you’re tripping up that uneven step on your basement stairs. I want you to think of me when you look into your teacup and your rear-view mirror. I want you.

Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love. I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.

Oh you were beautiful, when your hair was a mess and your face a wreck. You were beautiful when you slept and when you wept. You were beautiful when you never thought you were, because I saw you in those moments, I saw all of you; and oh how I loved you.
Sun, 30th Nov — 26,376 notes

it’s like this:
say there’s a whole room of people and you’re somewhere in the middle of them all.
I walk in and I see you, but you don’t suddenly become the only person in the room. god no. you become the room. you are the room.

You can tell how boring a person is by the lack of fear in their eyes when someone is flipping through photos on their phone.

She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. ‘Time’ for her isn’t something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water.

You’re not the kind of girl who settles. Keep not settling.

Life is so full of unpredictable beauty and strange surprises. Sometimes that beauty is too much for me to handle. Do you know that feeling? When something is just too beautiful? When someone says something or writes something or plays something that moves you to the point of tears, maybe even changes you.

I think perfection is ugly. I want to see scars, failure, disorder, distortion.

Let me wake up next to you, have coffee in the morning and wander through the city with your hand in mine, and I’ll be happy for the rest of my fucked up little life.
All I wish to do is touch you;
by that I mean touch your
heart in a way that will make you forget all the people who
have reached for your body

I remember that night better than I do entire years.

I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever. Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.

We drive each other crazy in ways that nobody else can even touch. We never bore each other. And we both realize what a rare thing this is.

If I knew where poems came from, I’d go there.

Oh, I don’t mean you’re handsome, not the way people think of handsome. Your face seems kind. But your eyes - they’re beautiful. They’re wild, crazy, like some animal peering out of a forest on fire.

I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I won’t apologize because I miss you, or because I said it, or because I text you first, or again. I think everyone spends too much time trying to close themselves off. I don’t want to be cool or indifferent, I want to be honest.

Making love with you
is like drinking sea water.
The more I drink
the thirstier I become,
until nothing can slake my thirst
but to drink the entire sea.

I would have written you, myself, if I could put down in words everything I want to say to you. A sea of ink would not be enough.But you built me dreams instead.

I don’t want to look back in five years time and think, ‘We could have been magnificent, but I was afraid.’ In 5 years I want to tell of how fear tried to cheat me out of the best thing in life, and I didn’t let it.

In Greek, “nostalgia” literally means “the pain from an old wound”. It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. It goes backwards and forwards, it takes us to a place where we ache to go again.

I do not desire mediocre love. I want to drown in someone.

'Perhaps they are singing songs to you,' he said, 'and I just think they are asking me questions.'

Don’t date a girl just because everyone else in the room can’t take their eyes off her, or that black dress hugs her curves perfectly. Date a girl who you think about while waiting for the subway. Who makes you want your words to sound like some pretentious asshole who sits at Starbucks all day with a laptop wrote them. Date a girl who makes you think of stargazing in the summer and hot drinks in the winter. Date a girl who makes certain moments of your life unforgettable. Don’t date a girl who if after two weeks she “won’t give it up” to you. Don’t date a girl who if after 6 months won’t give it up. Date a girl who you will wait till the ends of the earth ‘til she’s ready, a girl who you will gladly light the candles for. Date a girl who you will do anything to get that smile that melts your heart. Don’t date a girl who you’re dependent on. Date a girl who makes you more dependent on yourself to be better.

Your soul touched mine, and I think the whole world trembled.

Maybe Harry Potter’s real and you’re not.

Be with someone that requires you to grow, makes you forget your problems, holds your hand, likes to kiss, appreciates art, and adores you.


“I still love you” is the saddest fucking sentence in the whole world
"there’s no food" comes pretty close to it though

a true gentleman holds the door for his woman, then he smacks her ass



Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood // (protests for mike brown)


I’d like to talk to you, I hope you answer
Unexpected answer (1933), Rene Magritte / Answer, Tyler, The Creator


Last night is a blur, 2 (the quote is transparent so it matches your blog). Quote vs. Vincent van Gogh

Loving you was
like realizing
I’ve remembered every dream
the wrong way without knowing.

It was like hearing
the words of a song I
thought I memorized
but realizing I don’t
speak that language.

At least not anymore.
-Y.Z, the first waking moment

No matter how much you feed the wolf, he keeps looking at the forest.

Delete her number.

Stop ringing her. Stop messaging her. Stop making excuses to see her, to drop by her place.

Erase her name from memory. Remove yourself from her life, more completely than you would like but as completely as she deserves. Move on, so that you can allow her to also move on. When you close your eyes, you don’t get to see her face. Not anymore. You don’t get to think about her lips, the warm glow of her skin when she rests next to you, or how she squeezes your hand in her sleep. You are not allowed to remember the smell of her perfume, that she only drinks mint tea (with two dollops of honey), or that she loves you.

She loves you.

She has been in love with you for too long.

So, forget how she says your name. Forget how she calls your name. Forget how she screams your name. Forget that time you got sick and she stayed up with you all night, letting you lay your head in her lap and holding a cold compress to your forehead. Forget how her hair feels in your fingers. Forget how she looks in your sweatshirts.

Forget her.

Know only that she existed at one point in your life, but relinquish all hope that she could exist at another point — sometime in the future that you are unwilling to specify because you don’t know what you want. Yet. It is not fair for you to swoop in and out of her life as you choose. It is not fair for you to say that you are satisfied with “things as they are” and you will have time to “figure it out” later. Let her stop investing emotionally in you. Let her pour that love and care into the people who deserve her.

Don’t tell her that you think about her all the time. Don’t tell her that it bothers you to hear about her with other people, but that you’re willing to understand as long as she likes you more than them. Don’t tell her that this isn’t the right moment but that there will be a right moment. There is not going to be a right moment. She shouldn’t have to wait for the right moment.

Don’t tell her that you can’t handle ultimatums, that you don’t like the idea of finally adding finality to your relationship — whatever still remains of it.

What you are telling her is that you want to keep her on as an option, that you are taking her for granted, that you want to know she will be there, that you can depend on her at the end of the day. When you find that no one else has stuck around or that those who have are less interesting, less thoughtful, or less doggedly loyal to you.

Doggedly loyal to you.

That is what she has been to you, for you almost as long as you have known her: a constant emotional crutch, the guarantee of stability, a safety net while you reachvout to grasp objects that sparkle and shine far greater than she does. All that glitters is not gold, haven’t you heard?

She is fire. You are ice, and you are afraid that her slow burn will smolder your cool, hard demeanor. That’s what has driven your decisions, your actions all along: fear. You are a coward. You are a hypocrite. You are terrified to let her go, but you are afraid she is too good for you, that she could drive you wild, that you would choke on her flames. That she is too much for you to handle right now.

Right now.

But if you choose not to love her now, you can’t choose to love her later.
-Lauren Hooper  (via 5000letters)

They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds.

Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids.

this is not a poem. 
this is 4 a.m.
wondering where
you went,
and why i was
too afraid to follow.

“ darling,
you are much too whole
to be loved in halves. ”

A woman smiling 
is like the sun.
She doesn’t shine for you. ”

“ When we met, 
I remembered you.
Not in that way when
someone you’ve long forgotten
suddenly shows up and you’re
catapulted into memories of
happier times, no. 
I remembered you
the way a scar remembers a wound. 
And I haven’t stopped 
remembering you since. ”

stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them. you had to have him.
and you did. and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses.
you make him call before
he visits. you take a lover
for granted, you take
a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic. make
the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic. place it
on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always trying
to disappear as revenge. and you
are not stupid. you loved a man
with more hands than a parade
of beggars, and here you stand. heart
like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.
heart leaking something so strong
they can smell it in the street.

i loved you on purpose
i was open on purpose
i still crave vulnerability & close talk
& i’m not even sorry bout you bein sorry
you can carry all the guilt & grime ya wanna
just dont give it to me

I remember your voice on the phone
and I remember
how we’d run out of things to say
half way through the night
but neither of us ever
wanted to hang up because
it hurt too much not
to hear the sound of
each other breathing.
Now it’s three years later,
and the line’s three years dead,
and I miss you so much
I tie love letters to
telephone wires,
hoping you’ll see
them from
wherever you’re
-Y.Z, I hope you get this message

możesz o mnie zapomnieć, ale to nigdy nie zmieni faktu, że kiedyś byłam w Twoim sercu.
możesz wymazać mnie ze swojej pamięci, ale nigdy nie usuniesz mnie ze swojego życiorysu.
możesz zlikwidować moje zdjęcia z pamięci  laptopa, zablokować moje konto, ale mój głos kiedyś na nowo zabrzmi w Twojej podświadomości
możesz odsunąć od siebie myśl, że Cię kocham,
ale to nie zmieni moich uczuć.
To nie zmieni naszej historii. 
To nie zmieni biegu losu, który już się rozegrał. I nie zmieni przyszłości, w której nas już nie ma. 
Piszemy nowy rozdział, każdy z nas na własną odpowiedzialność.  
Kiedy kosmos pcha nas ku sobie, zmieniamy ścieżkę, skręcamy w bok. 
I może już nigdy się nie spotkamy.
Ale nie zapominajmy o tym, że istnieliśmy i spotkaliśmy się po to, aby czegoś się wzajemnie nauczyć, a nie po to, aby się pożegnać. 
Pożegnanie było jednie skutkiem ubocznym.
Źle zażyliśmy niewidzialne tabletki, które spadły z nieba w momencie, kiedy pierwszy raz mnie pocałowałeś.
Zatruliśmy się i kilka tygodni później zwymiotowałeś, wydalając przypadkowo uczucia, które miały odegrać kluczową rolę w naszym dramacie.
Nie było już o co walczyć, więc mimowolnie się poddałeś.
A ja stałam z zaciśniętymi pięściami, choć nie miałam już nawet w co uderzać. 
A kiedy odszedłeś, pokochałam nasze wspomnienia.
I stały się piękniejsze niż czas, który spędziliśmy razem. 
Nagle ujrzałam Twoją perfekcję, która wcześniej nie istniała.
Dostrzegłam ją tylko dlatego, że już Cię nie było.

A teraz nadal istniejesz - i choć tak daleko
 i nie wymieniamy już spojrzeń nad kieliszkami wina, 
i nie muskamy swoich dłoni
to wiem, że wciąć dotykamy swoich myśli. Delikatnie, coraz delikatniej, 
ale wciąż odczuwalnie.
I nadal żywię cichą nadzieję, że pewnego dnia ten dotyk zaboli Cię tak intensywnie, że zapragniesz wrócić
Abyśmy mogli zatruć się nową trucizną, która już na zawsze pozostanie w naszym krwiobiegu
i nigdy nie wyparuje. 
I odkopiemy księgę z naszą powieścią
wyrwiemy kartkę z epilogiem
i napiszemy go na nowo.
Zakonczymy tragiczny koniec surrealistycznym happy endem. 
Damy tę bajkę do przeczytania naszym wnukom. 
 I jeszcze raz poślesz mi to zakochane spojrzenie, ale już  nie nad kieliszkiem alkoholu,  a nad krwią wylaną w dniu mojej śmierci. 

“ If giving leaves you feeling empty, you’re giving too much to the wrong person. ”

“ I am still alive
in all the places
you killed me. ”


photo i took in montreal when i was with fred

  • You’re the right, you’re the warmth, you’re the lighthouse, you’re the safety net, you’re the calm voice on the other end of the line, you’re the warm arms holding me safe at night, you’re the closest thing to home. 

You are so used to your features, you don’t know how beautiful you look to a stranger.

"I grew up on stories of “boy wins the girl”
and I always used to wonder what she wins."

She is not a meal, or a quick snack. She is no finger food to play with. Not a dessert to rot your teeth against. It does not matter how hungry you are, or how appetizing she looks— until she is seen as more than food, your mouth will never know her.

In the quiet
times our dreams
come creeping
up around us,
whispering softly,
"When did you
"the silence betrays you"

My story isn’t sweet and harmonious like invented stories. It tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves.

Brak komentarzy:

Prześlij komentarz