Latest Posts by stardustt-child - Page 3

might just be me but I don't think how Ali played with Emily's feelings for so long is a good representation of a healthy relationship

What does it really matter who said "I love you," first if I am the last to hang on?

Excerpt from a book I haven’t written yet

Well, you’ll break his heart and he’ll break yours. But you won’t forget each other, even if one day you walk past him and neither of you acknowledges it. That’s the thing about first loves, you never forget them, they are the only person who gets your whole untouched heart. They get all the love you’ve saved up for this moment and they get to keep it forever. You may never speak again but you can guarantee that you can still picture his eyes looking into yours as he said those three words, the way he kissed you afterwards and couldn’t stop repeating those words over and over until you were both too tired to speak. However you’ll also always remember the last time he said those three words, and told you that he was going to come back for you, the way he made you believe that a happy ending did exist for both of you. Those memories will come back to you in waves, all the firsts and all the lasts, the good and the bad, but what’s important is the fact that your first love is just that, the first but not the last.

from me to you (via gemmarambles)

“What do you think true heartbreak feels like? And when I say true heartbreak, I mean the real heartbreak- not only what people pretend to feel when they’ve watched a sad movie and think that it’s poetic and nice.” she looked at her friend who had been stirring her coffee for minutes now. She wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I think more than anything, it just feels empty. No matter what situation you are in, it’s always the emptiness that hurts most. You can’t call that person to tell them about your day, and even if you didn’t even have them to begin with, you have no one to hope for any longer. And then there’s the self doubt; you begin thinking that you weren’t good enough for that person, even if everyone keeps telling you otherwise. And you watch them live their life, and no matter if they’re happy or not with how everything turned out, you will always find yourself wishing for one last time of everything. You will search for the exact color of their eyes when you look at other people, you will keep listening to their favorite song until it's tattoed into your brain. You will go to all the places you used to go to together and turn around and they won’t be there. You’ll see their mother in the supermarket and you’ll be too scared to say hello. And the worst thing is, you won’t break down on the bathroom floor at 2AM and scream their name into your towel over and over- you will find yourself thinking of their voice when you are at university or at the train station and for a second you will be so sure that you’re hearing it, that they’re right next to you. But then you’ll turn around and face strangers wondering why the hell you are crying at the train station on a Monday afternoon.” She looked at her friend who had asked the question what felt like centuries ago, and she caught tears in her eyes. “This isn’t how every heartbreak feels. Everyone feels it differently.  But this was mine.”

excerpt from a book I’ll never write

e.e.

(via wordsparkle)

But is there ever a point when you realize “wow, so this is how it ends”? Or are our lives so filled with people fading away from each other that we don’t even notice that it happens anymore?

e.e. (via wordsparkle)

we believe that love, no matter what, will save us. i don’t know if that’s beautiful, or foolish.

painonpaper (via wnq-writers)

I still haven't learned the difference between love making and fucking.

you never taught me

You have to learn how to forgive the people who have broken your heart, even if they never gave you an apology.

the hardest lesson to learn // excerpt from a book i’ll never write #106 (via a-laa-mode)

You have to let it all go. The way he kissed you, the way he smelled, the way he touched your waist and pulled you in. You have to let it go and you have to let him go. Because that’s who he was, not who he is.

(via the-taintedtruth)

You're not the same boy and I'm not the same girl we were when we fell in and out of love. That is both heart-wrenching and relieving.

I still remember who you were

for far more than i knew poetry was nothing more than a home i created as the only way to still be close to you

k.m (via fluohrine)

maybe all loves take a lifetime to get over.

excerpt from a book I'll never write

He picked me once, and he might not pick me still. But he picked me once, and that'll have to be enough for this lifetime, right?

Even though it isn't

I bet if they put us back together, we'd fit just like lost jigsaw pieces

Excerpt from book I'll never write

sexting

boy: you like that? me, sitting on the hardwood floor with a face mask on, eating salt and vinegar chips, making mac and cheese: yes

Your first love ending is the feeling of the car door slamming on your fingers, and as it drives away with your half-ended tendons, you can’t help but think about how beautifully the light reflects off the hood. Your first love leaving is the sound the paintbrush makes as it cracks into two pieces right before the brushstroke that makes an artwork into a masterpiece. Your first love hurting you is the rush of the water down the bathtub drain, sinking sinking sinking like a pile of stones in the pit of your stomach, before disappearing forever simply because you no longer think about it. Your final love is the feeling of a symphony orchestra playing your heartstrings like a harpsichord to the tune of the song that never fails to turn your lover’s lips upwards like a sunset that happened to flip itself on its back to reveal its pink belly to the world. Your final love is the sound of the robins singing their good mornings outside the bedroom window as you open your eyes against their neck at the crack of dawn, before pulling them closer and slipping back under. Your final love leaving is with a note that says “see you tonight for dinner, I love you, be safe” and you tuck it in your breast pocket because that’s the closest you can touch it to your heart and you start heating up the oven because you are so excited to kiss their cheeks that night.

1:28 AM: THE FUTURE (k.p.k)

lets buy a disposable camera and go to abandoned buildings and take shitty pictures of eachother all day

why am I still in love w you

The worst thing about heartbreak is when you meet somebody else but you’re almost afraid to get over the person who you were last with because you don’t know who you are when you aren’t loving them.

Emmerson Grin (via written-in-pen)

who else wants to go on a drive at 1am until we forget about what’s bothering us

I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.

Jenna, Waitress (via hplyrikz)

Clear your mind here

(via hplyrikz)

An actual exchange I just heard outside my window

child 1: I really like screaming

child 2: yeah me too

child 1: let’s screamAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

child 2: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

both children: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

there’s a ten year old boy in my high school honors math class who speaks six different languages.

This is a poem about how you never get the kiss you want when you want it; how time twines around your neck, its thorns digging into your skin so you can never forget how clinging to a string of hope, threading it between your spine, and having it unravel before you in the span of an hour is worse than any metaphor about nakedness that you poets will ever write. This is my reflection in the mirror. This stanza is the small gap where my fingers try to touch against the glass. You can’t even possess yourself; let alone the person you see standing before you. The moon hasn’t come back from the cleaners yet and I have nothing to slip into tonight that makes my reflection feel beautiful. Time is falling through the hole in my pocket. January is coming soon, and I have a feeling that he’s never going to fall out of love with this December. He’ll still write her love letters. He’ll send her white orchids on every lonely holiday and pretend that love is a place you can cross state lines to get back to, but it’s that time of the year again, and calendar sales keep reminding us all that we can never get back to where we once wanted so bad to lose ourselves in for good.

It Took Time (Shinji Moon)

Some words to use when writing things:

winking

clenching

pulsing

fluttering

contracting

twitching

sucking

quivering

pulsating

throbbing

beating

thumping

thudding

pounding

humming

palpitate

vibrate

grinding

crushing

hammering

lashing

knocking

driving

thrusting

pushing

force

injecting

filling

dilate

stretching

lingering

expanding

bouncing

reaming

elongate

enlarge

unfolding

yielding

sternly

firmly

tightly 

harshly

thoroughly

consistently

precision

accuracy

carefully

demanding

strictly

restriction

meticulously

scrupulously

rigorously

rim

edge

lip

circle

band

encircling

enclosing

surrounding

piercing

curl

lock

twist

coil

spiral

whorl

dip

wet

soak

madly

wildly

noisily

rowdily

rambunctiously

decadent

degenerate

immoral

indulgent

accept

take

invite

nook

indentation

niche

depression

indent

depress

delay

tossing

writhing

flailing

squirming

rolling

wriggling

wiggling

thrashing

struggling

grappling

striving

straining