Don't listen to them.
They have no idea what they are talking about.
They are wasting breath and energy, because you will not fully understand what the hell they are saying until You can realize it for yourself, until you experience whatever mini-epiphany that keeps you alive and functioning.

You won't know it until you know it.

Labels: it is time you made yourself your own hero

to G:

&


love, always
j.



*postcards are from Frank Warren's PostSecret blog

R(omantic)B(oy)
I have been in love with your
body/face/voice/words/wit/irony/hands/mouth/style/glasses/quirkiness/sophistication/intellect/eyes/mole/smile/softness
for far too long.
Attraction should not be so strong.



I want to reach inside your being, and touch your intangible, tender parts.

I like to believe some day that we can discover something beautiful in each other.

There are no words to describe this state.
Melancholia, perhaps. Disappointment. Jealousy. Unwanted solitude. Alienation.
Worse case, maybe despair.


There are times when fingers of golden light spill onto earth through these great plates of clouds, and for a moment I truly believe heaven exists.

I want to be water. I want to be so dark and big and cold and endless. I want to support. I want to drown. I want to crush and hold in my body a whole ecosystem of mysteries.

It frightens me to think that there is a machine that listens carefully to the way her heart beats, that the one thing I thought could prevail in this midst of un-love and darkness could possibly fade away.
And while that little box attached to her hip listens as her chest goes bipbapbipbap, my heart is in a drought as I cry and cry everything I couldn't say. And it shrivels up and hurts, because my heart cannot take the place of her heart.

Please, let her be alright. I didn't think I could care for someone so much.

I cannot love you.