it is probably too soon.
no, it is definitely too soon for this - smiling, flirting, laughing with a stranger. too soon for first dates, too soon for getting to know another person, too soon for doing this strange dance all over again; it’s too soon and it makes me tired and it just makes me miss you more than the missing i do all day and all night to begin with.
for the first time, i came home from a date and felt nothing. not giddyness, but not dislike or disappointment either. nothing. an emotional flatline. i begin to wonder if i have become incapable of loving anyone.
we had a good time, we laughed and talked and i could see him liking me more and more as time went on, and when he said how great of a time he had, i enthusiastically replied, “me too!”
so when he asked me out to dinner i said yes. and then it begins again.
but this time as he walks me home, i already know what’s coming. and yet i still feel nothing, no butterflies but no dread, just dull emptiness where some sort of feeling should be. and when he kisses me i still feel nothing, but afterwards i hug him very tightly for reasons i can’t explain, and suddenly i am picturing you standing here, i’m picturing us kissing here a hundred times, and feeling nothing very suddenly turns into feeling something.
it seems so wrong somehow, to know that he walked away so happy, thinking man, ain’t life grand, still buzzing after our kiss, and i am upstairs in my bedroom, crying. first kisses aren’t supposed to make you cry and wish for someone else; they’re not supposed to make you feel miserable. but it did, and i still do. they’re supposed to, i think, make you feel relieved that you’ve finally been able to move on in some way, to at least consider someone else, but instead i think i have taken many steps backward, back to the place where i still can’t imagine how i could ever want anyone else but you.
(via cartoonstyles)
(Source: fromthegrotto, via yes-yesyall)
"are you some kind of medicine man?
cut the demons out of my head
you can’t kill something that’s already dead
so just leave my soul alone"
wintersleep, “weighty ghost”
i’m scared.
it’s too easy. and it gets easier every day. i can practically see myself shrinking…
"there is death in the bones
like a pure sound"
pablo neruda
everything I see
and every thought I have
is seen and thought
through the prism of your memory
feelings don’t bother me. it’s not the emotions, i don’t mind them. i am alright with the aching, the overwhelming sadness, the hurting that becomes almost physical. those i can handle; i’ve been in a state of general melancholy for so long now and without apparent reason that it is almost comforting to return to it after a period of stark and trembling happiness. the thoughts on the other hand — they are the ones that torment me. i would give anything to stop them, to turn my brain off, to wipe it clean of anything relating to you. instead i am haunted by reliving every memory, even the ones i had forgotten, remembering moments, trying to answer unanswerable questions. the days are endless, the nights even longer.
i am not okay.
in you i waver, fall
and rise up burning.
-pablo neruda
And when sleep comes
to stretch me out and take me
to my own silence
there is a great white wind
that destroys my sleep
and from it fall leaves,
they fall like knives
upon me, draining me of blood.
And each wound has
the shape of your mouth.
-pablo neruda
