Part of life is a quest to find that one essential person who will understand our story. But we choose wrongly so often. Over the ensuing years that person we thought understood us best ends up regarding us with pity, indifference, or active dislike.Jonathan Carroll (via browndresswithwhitedots)
i wish i could be photographed standing at the top of that corner with the blue sky and vast, flat land as a backdrop - desolate, raw, alone, and hopefully, free. freed from everything that the heart has felt and took burden throughout all the years of consciousness. still receptive of inevitable urban surroundings, yet unaware of sentiments a living being is susceptible of.
The kid is dead.
How daunting, hollow, yet beautiful death is.
First weekend (without each other).
Like branches with lush leaves fallen from a seemingly sturdy trunk. Ardent, unexpected, heavy, a slow death beneath the scorching sun.
how long will this last???
why so apt.
am i too stubborn.
am i in denial.
am i too selfish.
am i fighting fate.
am i giving up.
am i giving in.
am i in dust, yet?
To be frank with you, I still do not comprehend where you are coming from, and the situation we have been in. Because they are not proportionally relative. Because your words does not speak louder than your actions or feelings. Because you are devaluing what we had. Because you are making light of what we still have.
Hence this of batch non-sensical logic among senseless love is the reason to why I am still so stubbornly holding onto this, apart from the fact that I can easily imagine us since from the present till indefinite times.
Though, I suppose I will never have the chance to comprehend.
corrupt it is.
does not last.
The first regret of her life.
Towards the end of their relationship, what she felt most unjustifiable was that neither of them had gave their all to sustain what they had at their best moment, or attempted their best to mend what was falling apart. That there were too many mutual ideas left undiscovered, and too many agendas only put down but left undone.
Such are roughly how regrets are formed.
"The rain is washing all the sadness away. Away the sadness goes into a hole of eternal darkness. Darkness so bleak it drains all my tears away. It is here i feel my existence, the joy of depression prolongs my bleeding life."
The rain will not wash my sadness away, nor will the sun dry up my heart. Darkness will only contain my tears. It is here i lost my soul, the joy of depression is sucking my blood slowly.
I never regretted anything that I was sure of at the time of decision. Yet I would never accept a result which I never made up my mind on, which I never abruptly agreed or denied to.
I have always believed in fate as I mentioned in numerous occasions. I have seen fate passing me by, I have experienced fate stumbling upon me as hefty, solid rocks; fate which I no doubt would not be able to fend off. Yet this is not fate, I can just tell. This is poor, misleading decision making, winding up the wrong route because of preconceptions and false assumptions, because of so-called logic, because of what should be for the best.
Unless, of course, you tell me I am no longer of value to you. But I need to hear the truth; dear, honest truth from your heart. Not excuses that your head guided you, telling you it would do good to me and to us, because it is not doing good to me at all. I have had some bad days, but never as worse and insecure as of now. Perhaps instinctively, I knew I would regret not fighting for this, for once, for last.
No relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater…The love we have for each other is bigger than these small differences. And that’s the key. It’s like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece. Love can make up for a lot.
Sarah Dessen, This Lullaby (via disappolnted)
By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up by itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (via stxxz)