"I sit down, tell myself I shouldn’t write about you anymore, then I do." // love will save us. love will kill us

please take pictures of your friends. take pictures of your friends when they laugh, and when they are happy. And when they are sad, too. Take pictures of them partying, studying, eating, or sleeping in your bed. Take pictures of their new hair color, or new shoes, take pictures of them while they roll their first cigarette, and take pictures of their last, when they quit smoking. take pictures of your friends just being themselves. Tell them they are beautiful all the time you think it. Protect them. They may dislike these pictures now. but one day, very very far from this year, they will be thankful. -

memory is just another form of imagination

I’m not saying I missed you, but I check my phone every ten minutes waiting for your messages.
I’m not saying I missed you, but I don’t find closure in good or bad days if I can’t talk to you. I’m not saying I missed you, but I really fucking missed you. I’m not saying I like you, but I would definitely travel the entire world with you. I’m not saying I like you, but I wouldn’t mind waking up to your face every morning. I’m not saying I like you, but I really fucking like you. Listen. I’m not saying I love you. Don’t worry. But I would spend the rest of my life with you. I want to know every little thing you’ve done, good or bad. I want to cover you in kisses and touch you like you’re a work of art. I want to be with you when you’re sad and angry, and I want to love you unconditionally. Listen. I’m not saying I love you. Don’t worry. I’m saying that I would love you in a heartbeat if that’s what you want.

"Yesterday I saw the sun shining
And the leaves were falling down softly
My cold hands needed a warm touch
And I was thinking about you

“…Strange how big moments are always very fast and very slow simultaneously. Looking back at them, you can see yourself doing every single thing as if in slow motion, yet in reality, in the heart of the terrible moment, everything happens too swiftly, so fast as to be out of control. I have never worked that out.”










"It ends or it doesn’t. That’s what you say. That’s how you get through it. The tunnel, the night, the pain, the love. It ends or it doesn’t. If the sun never comes up, you find a way to live without it. If they don’t come back, you sleep in the middle of the bed, learn how to make enough coffee for yourself alone.
Adapt. Adjust. It ends or it doesn’t. It ends or it doesn’t. We do not perish."






I wish we could go back to claim what we lost
even though I know 
that you went somewhere
I can’t follow






Call me. Call me in the middle of the night, call me with tears in your eyes, call me with a smile on your lips. Call me whenever you feel like it, whenever you want to talk, whenever you need someone to listen. Just call me. Hearing you breathe on the other side and knowing you’re there is enough. I will always pick up the phone from you.






It happens. It happens every day. People grow apart. Friends walk hand in hand until they find that their parts no longer intertwine. Lovers kiss to notice that this kiss that once meant weak knees and beating hearts no longer tastes of sweet love but of bitter goodbye. You once poured your heart out to the boy who was your best friend but when you see him again, it’s like the silence swallows you whole and you can’t think of one word to say. So you stare and stare and try to figure out what happened to create this chasm, this black abyss that opened up between you. And most of the time it’s not an argument that tore you apart but life itself. It’s you and it’s them. You changed. You grew up. You made decisions. You moved on. Things that used to mean the world now mean nothing and people that used to make you feel like you could climb the highest mountain now make you feel like drowning at the bottom of the sea. And that’s okay. Because people come and people go and it happens for a reason. Some friendships aren’t meant to last a lifetime, some people can’t be kept, some relationships aren’t worth holding on to. So let go. If they don’t make you happy anymore, let them go.










A year ago all I wanted was for you to tell me you missed me - I wanted you to regret leaving me. Now you do. You told me it was your biggest mistake. 
If you would have asked me what my biggest mistake was a year ago, I would’ve told you it was not trying harder to stop you from walking out the door. Not trying harder to make things work. Not trying harder to be the girl you could love. Now I know that’s not true. 
My biggest mistake was believing I wasn’t good enough because you didn’t choose me.











why do we want what we cannot have?


Because wanting what we can have would be too easy, therefore too boring



You set my entire being on fire but refused to burn with me.



The universe has no fixed agenda. Once you make any decision, it works around that decision. There is no right or wrong, only a series of possibilities that shift with each thought, feeling, and action that you experience."








"That’s the problem with drinking, I thought, as I poured myself a drink. If something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen."



"You will get your worst bruises from people who literally didn’t touch you."




"You and me weren’t meant for bedrooms. You and me weren’t meant for these small town afternoons. You and me were meant for leaving, meant for highways, and sunsets, and all summer moons."









"I wish you cared enough to look into what I’m doing so then you’ll see how when you left my life finally all fell together and I became the girl who lives a life of constant content, I am the person I’ve always tried to be, and I want you to see that."



"I still remember everything you forgot."





Let me tell you a story about love:

She had a soft voice and strong hands. When she sang she would seem too large for the room and she would play guitar and sing, which would make his chest feel huge. Sometimes he would touch her knee and smile. Sometimes he would touch her face and close his eyes.



"You have been told that I love too much, too often and too hard, too many times and it has taught you that the way people receive love is their problem not yours. It is not that you to love in moderation. It is that they need to learn how to receive love more graciously."















"If there is any substitute for love, it is memory."























"I loved a man who had opened up a world to me but hadn’t loved me enough to stay in it."










She repeatedly
pricked her curious finger
on the same tempting thorn."





"You said you love the sun but why do you talk about the moon so much?"



“It was then that I realized very quickly that I’d choose that boy a thousand miles away over somebody right here. I am lonely, but I am only lonely for you.”





"What is human existence? It turns out it’s pretty simple: We are dead stars, looking back up at the sky."


























up: weronika izdebska photo




I am fueled by foggy mornings, moonlight, and starry skies













Do not fall in love with people like me. I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.












I just wanted you to know there will be a piece of you in me always, and I'm grateful for that. Whatever someone you become, wherever you are in the world, I'm sending you love. You're my friend to the end."

I believe that when two people are in love with each other, you can see it in their eyes. The way they look at each other, the way they stare at each other, it’s all there. Their eyes are full of admiration, of attraction, of undying feelings for each other. Their eyes twinkle, their eyes are smiling. Even if they didn’t t say a word about it, there’s this invisible thread connecting them two.

Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen

We are so brave to keep making promises.
We are so brave to mean them. People can tell how tired our hearts are from across the street but we still hold hands while we ride the train. You bring me water when I cry and make sure I drink the whole glass. I buy your favorite records for three dollars and we listen to them together. We drink wine in the nighttime and say things like ‘this is where it hurts’. We draw maps of each other’s pasts. Heartbreaks colored in black. Grief outlined in purple. The happiest times shaded yellow. This is how we learn each other. We are so scared and brave. We are so terrified and willing. We rewrite the definition of brave and it is this: love again. love again. love again.

I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, Kiss me harder, and You’re a good person, and, You brighten my day. I live my life as straight-forward as possible.
Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.
Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans. We never know when the bus is coming. 

But the most beautiful things in life aren’t just things. They’re people and places, memories and moments, smiles and laughter.

a toast to all the missed opportunities and phone calls, to all the boys and girls and people I've never got to know. to all the perhaps and all the maybes and the days spent in bed instead of going to the party. to all the love that got lost

Somewhere someone is thinking of you. Someone is calling you an angel. Someone is making you into a vision so beautiful that it can only live in the mind. Someone is thinking of the way your breath escapes your lips when you are touched. How your eyes close and your jaw tightens with concentration as you give pleasure a home. These thoughts are saving a life somewhere right now. In some airless apartment on a dark street, someone is calling out to you silently and you are answering without even being there. So crystalline. So pure. Such life saving power when you smile. You will never know how you have cauterized my wounds. 

I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people’s eyes when they realize they’re in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they’ve forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies. I love when people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words. - 

I think kissing is the most pure and raw form of physical contact there could ever be. Sex is intimate, sure, but you can have sex with anyone. A kiss though, my god. A kiss can change your world. A small touch between two pairs of lips can blow your mind. Whether it be short and sweet, or long and intense. And when you find someone that looks at you like you’re more beautiful than a blossoming rose; you never want to feel another’s lips against yours ever again

"Pić wino, jeść ciabattę z suszonymi pomidorami, mozzarellą i prosciutto i uprawiać seks na dywanie i wić gniazdko można prawie z każdym. Jednak długoterminowo ważne jest to, żeby być z kimś, z kim można stać naprzeciwko całego świata i liczyć na to, kiedy tylko zawieje silniejszy wiatr nie spierdoli, ani nie złoży się jak wadliwy parasol pociągając cię za sobą.
Na taką osobę warto poczekać, zamiast zapełniać miejsce obok siebie byle kim. Cokolwiek jest lepsze niż nic, ale sprawdza się to do pieniędzy i pizzy – nigdy nie sprawdza się to do ludzi."
~ Volant

"Nie widzimy jednak dwóch rzeczy – tego, że można być dla kogoś tylko pierwszym wyborem albo żadnym, bo pomiędzy nimi jest tylko nasza nadzieja. Druga rzecz jest za to taka, że nadzieja – zgodnie ze słowami Stephena Kinga – to największe skurwysyństwo jakie wyszło z puszki Pandory."

~ Volant “Nikt nie zasługuje na uczucia z second-handu”

You make lists in your head about what you want in a lover, like brown hair and a sweet voice. A sharp mind and a soft heart, a sense of humor that actually makes you laugh like you mean it. This and that. And it’s all bullshit. Because people aren’t lists. And I’ve always wanted to be the person who made someone realize that. I want to come across someone with a list in their head that is nothing like the person I am, and I want to show them what they didn’t even know they were looking for. People who think they know what they want are fooling themselves. Nobody really knows what they want.
Not until it’s right in front of them

Three places where I thought about you. - Call me at 4am. Wake me up. I don’t care, I just want to hear your voice. Tell me about the bad dream you had, tell me why you can’t fall asleep. Tell me why you prefer to talk at night, or why the words only come spilling from your mouth when you think no one is listening. I am here. I will listen to you when your shoulders feel heavy; I will hear your words when you feel so crushingly small. I will sit with you in silence when you are slumped against your pillow. I know your sadness is not beautiful, I know it is overwhelming and destructive and ugly. I know you feel powerless and redundant. So call me at 4am. I prefer you over sleep any day. Don’t sit there on your own. Talk to me. I love you and I care

Wherever I am, wherever I go, I always have such need to merely talk to you. Even when I have nothing to talk about – with you I just seem to go right ahead and sort of invent it. I invent it for you. Because I never seem to run out of tenderness for you and because I need to feel you near. Excuse the bad writing and excuse the emotional overflow. What I mean to say, perhaps, is that, in a way, I am never empty of you; not for a moment, an instant, a single second.

Actually, there is a word for that. It’s love. I’m in love with them, okay? If you’re looking for the word that means caring for someone beyond all rationality and wanting them to have everything they want no matter how much it destroys you, its love! And when you love someone you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes, or call you crazy, even then, especially then! You just don’t give up, because if I could give up, if I could just take the world’s advice and move on and find someone else that wouldn’t be love! That.. would be some other.. disposable thing that is not worth fighting for. and that's not what I am fighting for

I hope we last. I hope we do.
But if we don’t, this is how I want you to remember me: I want you to remember me curled up, listening to the sound of your heartbeat and tracing maps across your skin. Remember me laughing at your jokes, even the stupid ones. Remember me in hysterics for absolutely no reason and in tears because one time you made me so sad neither of us thought I’d recover. Remember me brave, that time you held my hand and I thought I was going to die; remember me scared and gentle and delicate and breakable - only for you though, only for you.
Remember me happy, and all the ridiculous ways I tried to get your attention. Remember the way I was too stubborn to talk to you and how absolutely insane it drove the both of us. Remember all the firsts and how they were so delightful we went back for seconds and thirds and fourths. Remember the songs you couldn’t stop listening to and the childish dreams you allowed yourself about the future. If it’s any consolation I allowed myself to have them too.
If it comes to it I don’t want you to remember the ending. Remember the beginning. Remember the first time you knew.

You were like summer. Barely anyone appreciated you when you were here, but the second you were gone, all they did was miss you

Not everything is supposed to become something beautiful and long-lasting. Sometimes people come into your life to show you what is right and what is wrong, to show you who you can be, to teach you to love yourself, to make you feel better for a little while, or to just be someone to walk with at night and spill your life to. Not everyone is going to stay forever, and we still have to keep on going and thank them for what they’ve given us. 

Remember that day at the fair, you were holding a stick of cotton candy and crying of laughter. Remeber that time on your bed when I was so sick I could barely breathe and you were gently caressing my head. Remember that night we were riding your motorbike heading home and I lost my scarf in the wind and you decided to search for it for half a hour in the dark. Remember when you took me to the sea and gave me a white seashell with our names written on. Remember that day you lost your job and instead of being upset about it you booked two plane ticket to Italy for us or that time you wrote a poem but you were so nervous you were barely able to read it or when you said I was beautiful for the first time that night outside the gas station. It doesn’t matter anymore now and I regret never telling you but, in those moments I realized I were slowly falling in love with you. -

Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.

I don't know what to tell you, other than that a giraffe's heart weights 22lbs and that somebody once told me when flies fall in love their entire brain is rewired to only know loving each other. When one of them dies, their memory becomes blank. I hope you never think about anything as much as I think about waking up next to you during a windstorm at 5AM. I miss you. 

Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider. For every time you say club passwords like ‘Have a nice day’ and ‘Weather’s awful today, eh?’ you yearn inside to say forbidden things like ‘Tell me something that makes you cry’ or ‘What do you think deja vu is for?’ Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everybody carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others. - 

We were both too scared to get hurt by one another, and ended up hurting each other. I hope you meet the right people in 2016, those who will appreciate you and won’t take you for granted. But if you happen to come across people who just want to use you, I hope you know when to walk away. 

Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed. She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to. She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three. Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap. Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her. You say: I dated her a while back. You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume. You say: She was younger than me. You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered. You say: It’s nothing now. You don’t say: But it was everything then. 

Love is big lines. love is terrible aches. love is tall people with their heads down or the smell of something burning. my eyes tracing a line through the air, love is two deep claw marks in a cloud. a very wide pool of motor oil. A bunch of colors, all of them black. love is you and me swelling like sea lions or two citrus fruits. rinds set to pop, navels swaying, juice in the corner, go ahead, lick the tip, blow a kiss, crash your plane; love is you in a doorway asking me to leave. love is okay, i’ll go soon. love is you’re right sorry, i’ll go now.

Somewhere someone is thinking of you. Somewhere someone is calling you an angel. Someone is making you into a vision so beautiful that it can only live in the mind. Someone is thinking of the way your breath escapes your lips when you are touched. How your eyes close and your jaw tightens with concentration as you give pleasure a home. These thoughts are saving a life somewhere right now. In some airless apartment on a dark, urine stained, whore lined street, someone is calling out to you silently and you are answering without even being there.

I think I’m losing you, but I will never regret choosing you, cause I am in love, and for now that will be enough. And the ones around me convince me that I was the only person who was dumb enough to believe that you and I had hope, but now I know even after you began to let your emotions slow the reason I stood alone was because I was the only one in our love who was never going to let go. And if someday you feel alone and everything caves in when you try to breathe, know that you are not alone as far as I can see, because you were everything to me.

Addiction is tricky. For example: a man who quit smoking for 11 years spent 15 seconds in an elevator with a man smoking a cigarette. He gave in. What I’m trying to say is.. I think I love you again.

and if these pictures have anything important to say to future generations, it's this: I was there. I existed. I was young, I was happy.. And someone cared enough about me in this world to take my picture.

 forget the stress. the worry. the petty skirmishes. life is too short. too short for cruelty. close your eyes.

 Who said that time heals all wounds? It would be better to say that time heals everything - except wounds. With time, the hurt of separation loses its real limits. With time, the desired body will soon disappear, and if the desiring body has already ceased to exist for the other, then what remains is a wound, disembodied. 

"she loves hard,
she loves true,
she loves passionately.
you’ll feel her warmth
lingering in corners of
your soul even when
she’s gone."

"Stop expecting loyalty from people who can’t even give you honesty."

I loved you, oh I loved you so much.

but you used to make me so sad.

"I think everything in life is art. What you do. How you dress. The way you love someone, and how you talk. Your smile and your personality. What you believe in, and all your dreams. The way you drink your tea. How you decorate your home. Or party. Your grocery list. The food you make. How your writing looks. And the way you feel. Life is art."

"Not even the stars shined as bright as my eyes would when you’d tell me you love me."

"And now you’re just a stranger with prints of my lips all over your body."

"Do not fall in love with people like me.
I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people."

"Any time not spent on love is wasted."

go fuck yourself, but first - fuck me 

"Why for example, does a twenty-two-year-old man pursue a sixteen-year-old adolescent? Because he is stimulated by her? Obviously not. They are at completely different developmental points in life with a dramatic imbalance in their levels of knowledge and experience. He is attracted to power and seeks a partner who will look up to him with awe and allow him to lead her. Of course, he usually tells her the opposite, insisting that he wants to be with her because of how unusually mature and sophisticated she is for her age. He may even compliment her on her sexual prowess and say how much power she has over him, setting up the young victim so that she won’t recognize what is happening to her. Even without a chronological age difference, some abusive men are drawn to women who have less life experience, knowledge, or self-confidence, and who will look up to the man as a teacher or mentor."

"The hardest part about walking away from someone is the part where you realize that, no matter how slowly you go, they will never run after you."

"I think I could have loved you better than anyone, and I can’t stop making lists of all the times I almost told you that."

"I wanted to tell you everything. And that hurt because some things were too scary. Some things even I didn’t understand."

"It hurt me to see that you always have time for others, but you never have time for me."

"And suddenly he couldn’t stand it anymore, not really knowing her, not knowing anything. He wanted to ask her every single question that seeped into his thoughts like a drop of ink spreading in a glass of clear water, he wanted to unravel her secrets like the spider web they were, keeping him glued in place until they eventually ate him up from the inside. He wanted to know why she always wore the same silver necklace and what it meant to her, wanted to know why her favourite colour was blue and why she hated red, and why she’d dyed her hair the shade of a raging fire two years ago when she could’ve turned it the colour of the ocean or the sky. Why she preferred winter to summer, why she was always upset in the middle of August and why she never went to bed early when her eyes were always bloodshot. He wondered how she could stare at people like they were art when so much in this world went wrong and how she could write about friends who had abandoned her and boys who had broken her heart like they were a lesson she gladly accepted. How she could compare that vile boy next door to thunder and coffee and flowers and whole galaxies while she seemed so lost in a dimension only known to her. And most of all he wanted to know why she kept so many secrets and why she didn’t trust him enough to unburden her heart, worry for worry, secret for secret. But he guessed that was just part of her, a part he would never fully comprehend: some mysteries weren’t meant to be understood. They were meant to be seen and examined and admired. She was one of them."

"And even while tired of life, you stand firm, for something or someone."

how much more
must i turn myself inside out
before you notice
my suffering?

or is it that you notice
and choose to look away?

"I can’t afford to hate anyone, I don’t have that kind of time."

"my pen transports me to places
i would rather leave behind.

silence is a response too.

there comes a time
when the leaves become so heavy
that the tree must wave goodbye to them.

this is my farewell to you, love.

you are not
my lighthouse.

i can make it
back to shore
on my own.

you are heartless,
pushing me away
and expecting me to return.

i am naive,
finding the guts to leave
but being too in love with you
to disappear for good.

is kindness really kindness
when it is echoed by cruelty?

if you must go,
remember to pack
your unkept promises
into that hasty suitcase.

do not leave any room for me to miss you.

 hurt myself
by keeping count
of the days
you have been missing.

The problem is that I don’t settle. I’ll never settle. And that is why I’m on a pretty rough path but in the end it’ll be worth it.

Find someone who makes you realize three things: one, that home is not a place, but a feeling. Two, that time is not measured by a clock, but by moments. And three, that heartbeats are not heard, but felt and shared.

far from here
is a life
that is asking me
to meet it halfway.

wild hearts
ruin the minds
that try
to tame them.

hehe, znalazlam wlasnie zabawny tekst

oto jak wygląda polska psychoterapia:

pacjent: chciałbym, żeby potrącił mnie samochód. albo mógłbym pod niego  wpaść

psycholog: samochód jakiej marki?

nie potrafię jej nienawidzić. Jesteśmy przecież zbyt podobne. Prawie identyczne. Ten sam typ. A może właśnie dlatego jednak potrafię?

jesteś tym jednym wierszem, którego mama kazała mi nigdy nie czytać.

jesteś tą jedną bajką, której tata kazał mi zawsze unikać z powodu braku happy endu.

niektórzy z bezradności rozkładają ręce,

a niektórzy nogi.

nigdy nie byłeś moim światłem. Odkrylam to, kiedy odszedłeś i nie zapadła za Tobą ciemność. Pomylilam Cię z blaskiem nadziei. A ona przecież nie gaśnie. 

niektórych sukienek już nigdy na siebie nie założę

bo wciąż czuję na udach ucisk Twoich

niektórych par butow już nigdy nie nałóżę na stopy

bo 

nie założę już nigdy sukienek, które ze mnie zerwałeś

staników, które rozpiąłeś

majtek, które odsunąłeś na bok

ani uśmiechów, które pocałowałeś.

this pain made me weak for a second,

but god, it made me strong for so long. 

https://www.facebook.com/M%C4%99%C5%BCczy%C5%BAni-z-klas%C4%85-577236605709097/?fref=nf&pnref=story

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people that shouldn’t be making me sad are definitely doing so 

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