Lowkey excited for this photoshoot because I get to wear shoes that will finally make me average height, including my lovely 6 inch beauties.
I mean, I’m mainly excited because I just f*cking love shoes.
I don’t know what it is about these late nights, incessantly planning my future, a future that includes being with you, a reality that I’ve only dreamed about since we met. And yes, I mean the first day we connected in person. With a mind so beautiful, I can’t help but trace my fingers through the strings that link you and me, a bond we share intimately without the physicality, romanticism at its best. Nothing tunes out the song in my head that fits the melody of your voice, singing me to bliss. Tranquility of the heart, at ease, peace of the mind, there isn’t anything in the world that compares to this feeling. Painting to the time of our being together, a future that I see clearer as each day passes.
If only you could just be me for a moment, then you would know. You would know how I feel about you, about how your very presence sends chills down my spine and creates butterflies in my stomach. The way they flutter makes me soar through my wild imagination, only to find you as my muse, the inspiration for my fictional and bizarre world. If only you could notice how I look at you, finding myself so eager for you to catch me staring, hoping that you would gaze back into my eyes and see the electricity linking us. You could feel every inch of my body become blanketed with those awful goose bumps, yet know they are caused by the coldness of your absence. You would know how badly I want and need you with me, by my side, embracing me as long as you can, never letting go, enclosing me with your warmth. You would know how difficult it is for me to stop smiling when you’re around, using even more muscles than you need to frown. You would know how much I love you, how much I admire you, how much I want to know you love me too.
Although the stars outnumber the times I’ve fallen head over heels for you in less than a single breath-taking moment, nothing else can compare in amount. It’s ineffable. I would be rich after receiving a dime for every time my knees felt weak at your touch, the ability you have to become the focus of vision with these chills that make their way up my spine, interrupting my very consciousness, but you can’t put a price on a love like this. Your eyes are the very portrayal of the million stars that I can’t exactly count with my fingers, twinkles with every blink. It’s as if I’m in this dream state where you barely exist in perfect terms, something I can’t grasp in reality, but you are here. You are real. You are the embodiment of a being too good to be true, the rarest of its kind, yet here you are, in my world. You and me. From pillow-talking to falling asleep together in (our) bed, I want to be with you forever, too.
I crave you in the most innocent form, for I crave to say good night and give you forehead kisses and to say that I adore you when you feel at your worst.
I crave you in ways where I just want to be next to you and nothing more or nothing less.
It’s 1:17 am and the only lingering thought on my mind is you, and it’s enough to keep me wide awake.
I have the sound of your heavy breathing on the line right next to me comforting me as I cuddle almost-obsessively with your soccer jersey. I hold on to this article of clothing basked with your scent, attempting to get high off of what little may be left until I can get the real thing. I can almost feel your arms draped over my waist as you hug me from behind, kissing my cheeks down to my neck, and I feel like I’m on cloud nine. I can’t close my eyes because when I do, I am reminded of the way you feel in bed next to me. I miss the cold, winter nights where cuddling was almost second-nature, but I am still in awe over the fact that it can be 90 degrees and our bodies still manage to find a way to intertwine with each other constantly.
I miss you, in a vomit-inducing, cliché, and obsessive kind of way.
No matter how annoying or indescribably bizarre the circumstances of my life are, I strive to remind myself that I am lucky, not lacking.
You must learn her.
You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.
You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.
And, this is how you keep her.
Sometimes you just gotta kick back and let everything fall into place on its own. 🔆
Weekly outing with the best friend! I think I died and went to heaven. (at The Yardhouse)
I firmly believe in small gestures: pay for their coffee, hold the door for strangers, over tip, smile or try to be kind even when you don’t feel like it, pay compliments, chase the kid’s runaway ball down the sidewalk and throw it back to him, try to be larger than you are— particularly when it’s difficult. People do notice, people appreciate. I appreciate it when it’s done to (for) me. Small gestures can be an effort, or actually go against our grain (“I’m not a big one for paying compliments…”), but the irony is that almost every time you make them, you feel better about yourself. For a moment life suddenly feels lighter, a bit more Gene Kelly dancing in the rain.
You lift my heart up when the rest of me is down. I’m latching on to you.
If there’s another thing I’ve learned about love and relationship, whether it be romantic, blood, or friendly, it is this: strength may come in numbers, but I would rather have few whom I would sacrifice the entire world for as they would for me, than have hundreds who barely even know my middle name.