The Myth of You and Me

My father once told me that a happy ending is just a place where you choose to stop telling the story. So this is where I choose to stop. More things are still going to happen, of course, some good, some bad. Some things never get any better. When people die they stay dead. None of us knows why we love, or why we stop loving, or why everyone we love we lose. 
-Leah Stewart

Let's unload baggage before the 27th comes up. 

I hope whenever our song plays, I am there, whispering in your ear. 

Freudian dreams

Some nights ago, you came into my dreams. I insistently blocked off blogging about this subconscious what-not for reasons of forgetting.

But I always carried it with me, fragment by fragment, piece by piece, waiting to be dismembered. To be thrown away, in a place farther from the back of my mind where it always chose to stay.

I remember it in a 2-second frame now. In those seconds, you called me by my three-part name. There you were again, your ultimate detriment. A handful of people can call me that but only you know how to say it right. I remember how you said every syllable, every phonetic of it.

I remember the familiar smell of wood. I remember the face of your aunt and how her mere presence in the house mimicked that of your mother's and even more.

I remember our charge nurse, and what a misfit to picture-perfect did it make that she was there. 

I remember you reaching out and how peaceful it felt to be held by you again. And you know what? In my own cowardly self, I felt brave. God. How could you have pulled out the strings again. You were, you were home to me. Nothing and no one felt like such. 

Then everything was an inconsequential blur. I woke up.

Separated by time and space, back to our orbits, somehow a little thankful such parallels have crossed again, maybe for (insert now or ever), that's all we need. 

GG

"What we have is a great love. It's complicated. Intense. All-consuming. No matter what we do and how much we fight, it'll always pull us in."

I stumbled upon this quote countless of times but tonight was different. Tonight, in between my thoughts of how we came to be yet never came around, I realized that Chuck and Blair's will always be the closest to the love that we had. Because even in the most well-crafted of words, it was something no one could ever shake. Standing against what they threw at us, you were my fact. And as I put it, you were are the one fact I would never, ever give up for fiction.

Bull's Eye

"I admit,
I was afraid
to love.
Not just love,
but to love her.
For she was a stunning
mystery. She carried things
deep inside her that no one
has yet to understand,
and I,
I was afraid to fail,
like the others.

She was the ocean
and I was just a boy
who loved the waves
but was completely
terrified to
swim."
-Christopher Poindexter

"She wiped the black spilling
from her eyelashes onto her cheek,
and in that moment, I wanted, I
needed, for magic to exist.
I wanted to peel back her lonely
skin and feel her sadness stare
straight into the blue inside my eyes.
I wanted and I needed it to know,
that I, I loved her too, and my god
I, I would fight for her."
-Christopher Poindexter

#Poindexter. #Lang Leav. #Neruda.
#cerebral #love #lostandfound #idiot #missesandkisses

Issues

Let's get away from all this tension. 

Maypa wa nalai kwarta para wai gubot. Puya Lord. :'(

Senses

Rewind to almost half a decade of sunrises and sunsets, I have always wanted to write you a piece of the senses. It gets me perplexed how you rob me of words when you're around and how you put them quite back together when you aren't.

I. 

Once in a while, I smell you on my skin. And it stops my day. I'm on a chaotic highway, it's an intersection of routes, and I wait to pass. Eventually the horns go mute, and the lights signal for me to walk on. So, I keep moving. Pitfall after pitfall, your silhouette's all too familiar and I keep running and moving with each step against you. And then back. Tell me, how did tiring ever become so beautiful? 

II.

Feeling under the weather, and all I ever have are the memories of how he wasn't around and how you were unknowingly just there. Little did I know that even if it wasn't you, it was you I heard. I heard you say "hang on". I heard you telling me to endure the peaks and the valleys. You were my snowstorm, my saving grace.

You know?

"Hey," I said. "That was just one day."
"I know, I'm just kidding," she said, waving me off with her hand. "But neither of us exactly fit the mold there."
"Right."
She sat back, brushing her hair away from her face.
("My point is, there are a lot of people in the world. No one ever sees everything the same way you do; it just doesn't happen. So when you find one person who gets a couple of things, especially if they're important ones.. you might as well hold on to them. You know?")

I hate miss hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss  hate miss you.

Stop it with all the absence already. 

This is neither beautiful nor poetic. Ugh.