to dance by maryclaire roman on Flickr.
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Without You
It’s been over a 100 days without you
Some days,
you’re nothing to me
you’re a jerk
you’re an idiot for leaving me
Some days,
you’re stuck in my mind
you’re that sweet atheltic nerd
you’re still in love with me
It still hurts
I still hurt
i keep telling myself i’m not waiting for you, but i am; of course i am. i am waiting for all the unsaid promises to become real, i am waiting for the mornings when i’ll wake up and watch you sleep, and the ones when you’ll wake up and wake me with a cup of coffee. i am waiting for kisses, long and uninterrupted and felt, deep, deep inside my belly. i am waiting to let myself be yours, to let myself feel yours, to let myself believe and hope and dream. i am waiting. and here’s the really terrifying thing - the longer i wait for us to become real, the less we are a realistic possibility. the longer i wait, the more i need to imagine to justify the waiting, the more i need to dream up, to construct, to build out of missed heartbeats and stolen kisses. the longer i wait, the more i know whatever happens will disappoint, whatever happens will never be enough. no amount of love could justify this amount of pain. and yet - i wait.
marina v., ever the friend. (via findingwordsforthoughts)
Dormir
I haven’t been able to sleep since my birthday. Is this what my 18th year is destined to be like? Sleepless nights, early mornings, loud nightmares that wake you up when you do get some hours of sleep. I just lay in my dark room with the street lights shining through my window, waiting for my family to go upstairs and sleep so I can crawl out into the living room, open a window, and cry silently. I need to get better.
Leave
I’m tired of people leaving, which is ironic because I’m the one who left.
munya-ra