i wonder what you are doing for christmas
i love the warmth of christmas
but i love your warmth more
Tag: love
the thing about pain
the thing about pain is that it hurts. it is a consequence of the anger festering deep in your heart. what type of pain is it today? the angry fire radiating from within? whose flames lick and lap up at your nerve endings? imploding or exploding? which one is it today? perhaps the cool dull ache gnawing at your bones? there’s more on the menu and get this – a secret menu i haven’t yet unlocked. can’t wait for the new seasonal releases!
i’d like to decline ordering from the pain menu. i’m afraid i’m all pained out for like, life. but if you insist i suppose i’ll choose to feel nothing. one big pile of heaping nothing, please. numbness is my favorite flavor! how did you know? oh yes let me snap a picture of this despair and upload it to the Void. (an exclusive place to me only).
i wanted to write about pain but it hurts. and like i said, today i choose to feel nothing. so let me be numb for a little while longer
every time i think of you i end up crying
it is april and my eyes are wide open
daydreaming about metropolitan cotton candy
lazing around, careless, sundazed
a hastily manufactured afterthought
stopping mid sentence
to gaze at cloudy skies and stars
seamless streams unbroken, forgotten
april, come it will
on quiet sunny days, seeping sunlight
leaking twilight skies
trail of words
trailing words
i can taste how much you loved me
how much you used to, anyway
notes app from 2 nights ago
all this time i’ve been angry at myself for hoping you never give up on me. for wanting you to love me forever. how pathetic is that to admit
i feel awfully selfish
i’m sleeping with your sweater again tonight
yours
when i tried to stop myself from feeling all i felt for you, i couldn’t
i still tried to stop myself from telling you how much i felt
because if you didn’t know
if i didn’t say it
we’d always be what if.
you’d be my maybe
and i’d be your almost
we’d be perfect
precious, frozen in time
like a dream
but god, you are incredible
you are so easy to love
falling in love with you was inevitable
you hold me close
and touch me gently
you kissed me until there was more happiness inside me than sadness
there is so much love in my soul
my heart feels so full
i love when we just talk
i want to know all of you
i’m so lucky i get to explore your mind
i want to get lost forever
i see oceans in your eyes, it makes me so scared
if you are the ocean then i am desperate to drown
how can you see me so clearly and still love me?
when i look into your eyes, i feel so bare
how can you see right through me,
and see me for all that i am?
even though i’m scared
even though we aren’t making any promises
i trust you and i trust us
we don’t have to make any promises
you have all of me either way
when i love, i give my all
all of me, my heart, completely
and i love every part of you
i’m scared to say i’m yours but
i am completely and utterly yours
i’m yours.
letters, lines, and wretched messes
Your lips taste like honey
Like summer skies and orange sunsets,
Golden roses, midnight dreams
Soak slowly, I let you drown me
Your breath makes me twirly
Like swirling storms inside my stomach
Fluttering marigolds and yellow petals
rain down when you touch me
Our fingers, no, bodies are intertwined
Like messy strands of hair at 11 a.m.
Waking up to kisses and tea
I truly let you drown me
Scattered letters and bleeding pens
Carve their way into my heart
Harsh lines and soft edges stay
Until my sorrows turn into art
Molded and mended
I bleed and I breathe
The letters that you wrote to me
Made me realize suddenly
That we are not disorderly
We are a harmony
A synchrony, a symphony
A wretched mess of limbs, we are
Like folded pages in a book of poems
Entangled words all mangled up
And faded ink underneath the sun’s glow
But
We are not entangled letters
Or words or limbs
We are parallel lines
that were never meant to touch
those days are the hardest
Depression is a disease – a sickness that doesn’t go away with just chicken noodle soup. When the world is spinning and I feel like I can’t get back on my feet, I cannot tell people how I feel.
Sadness isn’t a feeling. It is a state. A constant mind-numbing state that drapes over me like a scarf that is too big – engulfing me with useless thoughts from the past. Remnants and echoes of “why are you here” and “you aren’t worth it” hang heavily around my neck, around my head, in my mouth and under my skin. Sadness feels like I am sitting at the bottom of the pool, watching the world go by in slow motion. You know that feeling when you’re underwater? When everything is muted, rippled, and stuck in time? Watching people wonder why I am just sitting and not swimming. Hearing people yell my name in frustration and tell me to “just swim.” How can I just swim when I’m stuck in a ripple?
Those days it’s hard for me to breathe. Those days I want to stay in bed all day and stare blankly at the ceiling in a dimly lit room. Yes, I would rather be wrapped around in blankets, than go out to parties because these blankets did not lie to me. These blankets did not leave me. And these blankets did not touch me without my permission.
The ruffles of these blankets have wiped away my tears, pushed away my fears in the dark, and hugged me until I fell asleep. The tears in the corner of these blankets have seen the world hurt me, have seen me hurt myself, and have felt me tugging and ripping at its seams as if they were my veins.
I want it to stop. I want this feeling of constant nothingness to go away. I want to stop breathing because, with every heave of my chest, I am just breathing in more water.
Those days it is so hard for me to breathe that I just want to stop breathing. I want it all to stop. Those days are the worst. Because no one ever gets it. “You were fine yesterday,” someone will mutter, and “It’s all in your head,” someone will state, with that matter-of-factually obnoxiousness that I have learned to ignore since the first day.
Those days I want to run and run and run away from the noise inside my head, from thoughts that trail after me like my shadow. I don’t want to see. I don’t want to hear. I only want to feel the thumps of my beating heart under my skin reminding me that I am alive.
The only thing depression taught me was this: people will say they love you and they support you and that they understand. They don’t. I realize that when I talk too much about my depression, people get uncomfortable. They try to butter me up with awkward ‘don’t you feel so much better today’s as if they can try to make me whole again. As if I’m something broken they think they can fix. But I’m not.
I am not broken. I am a person. I think, I feel, I am normal. Just a normal girl with perhaps too many feelings, too many thoughts – but a normal girl, nonetheless. Depression is a part of me that I’ve come to accept. Some days it’s easier to manage than others. Some days, my friends act like lifeboats and bring me above the surface. I can see the sun again. I can breathe again. Everything is fine again. But there will always be those dark, high tides that I cannot escape. I will plunge underwater and I will be pulled deep down again. But I will always find my way back to the lifeboats. I will always find my way to the surface.
To everyone: Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there. And just because you don’t understand it, doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.
Think before you say something. Your words might be the last thing someone hears.
gratitude
I don’t know what it is with me lately. One moment I’m completely fine — happy, even. Another moment, I feel as if my whole world has been torn apart. I have been getting this strange feeling of, not quite an uncertainty, but an almost-uncertainty. I don’t know how to put it in words.
I feel like a stranger in my own body. Like I’m in a room full of people and it’s the first day of school again and no one looks familiar. Sometimes, when I lie awake at night, I feel so lost. When warm arms hold me close, I feel safe until the thoughts start creeping in. Then, I feel lonely. Empty. Lost. I realize that everything is temporary. This blanket of safety and security is temporary.
This is not meant to be a sad post. Just one of acceptance. Maybe things don’t get better. Maybe I’ll feel this way the rest of my life – a life that I am incredibly grateful to have had.
My life is full of tickles and laughs. Kisses and cuddles. Purrs and piles of clothes. But it also full of uncertainty. Of fear and anxiety. Of sadness and loneliness.
When I journal or blog, I only write about my negative emotions. But I think I’m going to try writing about being happy. I don’t know if I can do it, but I want to. As much as I’ve accepted the way things are, somehow, there’s still a tiny sliver of hope left in me that things actually might get better.
Yes, things are shittier now than they have been when I was 16. Things are messier and more complex. But in a way, I have never felt more whole. I guess it’s all part of becoming an adult.
I want to be better. I want to love life all the time. I want to be happy. So, I am going to actively try to appreciate and love life.
Here are the people who make me smile – the people who make me feel a little less uncertain about where I’m supposed to be.
Thank you for reading! Let me know how you try to stay positive in the comments section.
nina
I don’t think I’m a good sister.
I never have been.
Sara turned 12 last November, and Nina is turning 17 in three days. Seven-teen. That’s crazy. My annoying baby sister. An adult. And I didn’t even get to see her change and grow into the woman that she is becoming.
I left home when I was 16. I thought I knew what I was doing. I really did. But it turns out, I didn’t. When I turned 17-18-19, I still thought I knew what I was doing or I knew that it was all going to make sense sometime soon. Now that I’m nearing 20, I realize that I don’t know anything at all.
When I first left, I often looked back at my time in Bangkok as something that I could leave behind. As if Bangkok was a phase I was meant to come out of. I didn’t fit in with anyone anyway. Other than the small number of real friends that I had, I truly could not care less about anyone else. Even my family. Which sounds terrible, I know. But I didn’t really acknowledge anyone’s existence until I was 14 (probably). Not in like, a really bad way, I just didn’t care about anything and assumed that no one would understand me. You know, typical angsty teenager stuff (that lasted way longer than it was supposed to).
I was raised on Scholastic books, Geronimo Stilton, Judy Blume, and Powerpuff Girls. I didn’t understand any of the Thai slang or references, nor did I care to. Many of my friends were raised more “international” too but they were able to integrate into Thai culture just fine.
I don’t know why I assumed my sister would be like the rest of them when we were raised the same way.
I was mean to her. Really, really mean to her. I ignored her all the time, I’d run away from her, lie to her, and hurt her. My mom always said that we should love one another because, in the end, all we have is each other. I think that this statement was the only good advice that my mother has ever given me.
Nina and I would have our fun every now and then but we would always fight. Not the usual sibling kind, I don’t think. I absolutely hated my sister. I don’t know why.
We’re really close now, because of all the family drama (and also because she’s mature and doesn’t want to steal my books), but mostly because we understand one another. I don’t think I really gave myself a chance to get to know her and see her as this amazing human being until sort of recently.
Now, I fondly look back on my time in Bangkok. All of my cherished memories of Thailand are because of her. All those years spent perfecting the art of hot chocolate when it rained (3 tablespoons of sugar, 1 1/2 cup of milk), trying to get the microphone to work when Dad wanted us to sing. All those hours spent learning how to bike and getting skinned knees. I always cried. Nina never did.
She was always the strong one. She always took the blame for every single terrible thing I did. For everything Sara did. Mom always blamed her, even if she wasn’t part of the situation at all. That’s part of being the middle child, I guess.
And that is why I am a bad sister. I should’ve said something. I should’ve stood up for her. I’m the big sister. I was supposed to protect her. I still am supposed to protect her.
I was never on her side. But she was always on mine.
She always believed in me. It was her that inspired me to keep writing. She’s always loved my stories. All the terrible horror stories, cliche stories, sappy YA stories… She’s supported me through it all. She always told me she loved me. Always got sad when I didn’t say it back.
She was the one who held my hand the first time I saved up money to get a diagnosis at the psychiatric ward. As we were leaving the psych wing, she stopped me. She didn’t say anything. She pulled me close and buried her head against my shoulder. She had to bend down because she was taller than me.
We were both crying silently. It was in that moment, that I realized how special our bond was and how I have been taking her for granted my whole life.
She’s turning 17 in three days. And I’m sitting here, almost 9000 miles away, wondering if it is too late for me to give her the love she deserves.
d.
She was the type of girl you’d see from miles away.
Always sharply dressed and put together. She was cool. And stylish. And she would never look at you. At least that’s what you think.
She’s always laughing with her friends. An inside joke, probably.
In a sea of 350 students, all you can see is her.
You sigh and keep on staring. She notices you and her lips curve up, giving you a half-smile. She looked confused but not creeped out so that’s good.
After the lecture ends you want to say something to her. Anything.
You know she’s always the last one to leave, always forgetting her phone. Silly girl.
You smile fondly at the girl whose name you do not know. But you feel like you know her.
You stand by the door, lost in thought. Black boots approach you.
Could it be…? This is the moment you have been waiting for all semester.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hey,” you reply.
She waits for you to respond and when you don’t, she looks away. She probably thinks you are dumb and you have no idea what to say next.
You have been imagining this moment a million times, maybe more. But your legs turn into jelly because her gaze is on you and you are so awkward and she is like sunshine.
The silence lingers on and your face turns red.
“Your shoes!” You blurt out.
“What?”
She cocks her head to the side, her brown eyes wide with confusion.
God, she is so beautiful.
“Your shoes- they’re nice,” you stammer.
“Oh, um. Thanks,” she smiles and looks down at her feet.
A lock of her dark hair falls onto her face and it takes everything out of you to not tuck her soft curl back behind her ear.
“I’m late for my next class,” she says.
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you around.”
She smiles at you again and walks out the door.
You leave in opposite directions.
When you hear her footsteps getting fainter and fainter, you turn around to catch a glimpse of her one last time.
Your heart skips a beat when you see that she is already looking at you.
— for Dena, the girl everyone sees from miles away
love & guilt
I don’t think I express enough gratitude. My thoughts are so muddled sometimes and life just moves so fast that I never have enough time to just sit down and reflect on how lucky I am to have so many amazing people in my life. Sometimes I get scared thinking about how much people actually care about me. Partially, because I always feel so guilty. Who am I, and why do I deserve your love? I spent the majority of my childhood and adolescence really loathing my existence. I mean, I’m just me, right? I wonder if they realize that I don’t have much to offer them. I’m not even that funny or smart. I’m just me. I know I shouldn’t feel this way – I shouldn’t feel guilty that I’ve accepted the love I’ve been given. But I just can’t help it.
I just feel so silly writing about all of this because I’ve been trying so hard with the whole self-love thing. I always talk about how much better life is for me now that I’ve started writing more and getting more in touch with myself. But the truth is, it’s always going to be hard. I’ll always have to try to make a conscientious effort to take care of myself. Sure, it gets a little easier, but it’s never going to be easy breezy. I don’t know what’s with me – I’m always going through ups and downs and confused in-betweens. This is just one of those.
I’m not quite sure whether or not I’ll post this, but when I first started this blog, I wanted to be completely myself and completely honest. This is my safe place. I know this entire post sounds as though I’m complaining about wow all the love I’ve been given and wow so many people love me. I promise that’s not what I meant at all. I’m so thankful. It’s just hard to accept sometimes.
So, *ahem* as the sole inhabitant of this safe place, I loudly and proudly announce: I am so grateful for all the wonderful people in my life – I have sweet sisters, close friends who have my back, and a best friend who always supports me. A boyfriend who always makes me feel safe. I’m grateful for all the love I’ve received from this world – God knows I don’t deserve it, but I have it and I am thankful.
Okay, that’s all for tonight! Thanks for reading my ramblings, I’m gonna go hide in a hole now, bye! X
this is what love feels like
Don’t. Don’t burn those pictures.
Don’t throw away the precious memories you had- the moments filled with pure innocence and happiness. They’re wrong. You don’t have to forget to move on. Take those polaroid pictures out at 2 AM. Remember. Remember the way his lips felt, the tone of his voice, the softness of his warm brown eyes. Remember his gentle touch- his hands in your hair, his arms wrapped around your waist. Let your eyes well up at the thought of the moments that you cannot get back. This is what love feels like.
Love. This single word seems to be what defines our existence. Such a simple four-lettered word- how can it elicit so many feelings from each of us?
What do you think of when you think of love?
Do you think of rainy days spent curled on a cozy couch with him holding you? All the deep conversations that lasted till the AM? Laying down next to her, legs tangled, talking about where you wanted to live together? Do you remember how you felt, when she pressed her lips against your forehead? Do you remember how fast your heart was racing when you first kissed? Remember how nervous you were before you took off your clothes for the first time? He made you feel beautiful and safe. Do you remember her breath on your cheeks as she fell asleep next to you? You wished that moment could last forever.
Love is blinding. Love is passionate. Love is safe. Love is when you feel like you’re finally home. But love is also sorrow. It is heartbreak. It tears you apart. Love makes you sit waiting at 3 AM wondering when he will come home. Or if he will ever call. Love is broken promises. Love is tear-stained sleeves, empty mailboxes and lonely nights. Love tastes like cigarettes and mistakes. Love is crying yourself to sleep every night because the empty space on your bed matches your empty heart. But love makes you feel.
From the best of feelings to the worst, here are 37 statements from anonymous individuals (submitted both online and quoted in person) of all ages and their take on love.
1. “Duty to perform to yourself and to others with selflessness and with care.” – 10
2. “Love sucks.” – 17
3. “Love is innocence.” – 17
4. “Love isn’t how far you get, but how many obstacles you had to overcome to be where you are.” – 17
5. “Apparently, it’s the mind that falls in love and not the heart.” – 17
6. “When he scores a 4/5 on the list of things-I-don’t-want-my-boyfriend-to-be, but he’s still my ideal one.” – 17
7. “Love is an idea that we as humans should spread around the world, especially with all the violence going on, we forget simple things such as to love one another.” – 18
8. “The vision of imperfection being perfect, disregarding the flaws, no matter how bad they can be.” – 18
9. “It’s like when you look at them you feel like someone is physically gripping your heart. They have all the power over you. In a way it kind of hurts but in the best way it ever could.” – 18
10. “Love is patient, love is kind.” – 18
11. “Love is when someone chooses us over everyone else- under any circumstance” – 18
12. “Love is love is love.” – 18
13. “Love is subjective and overused, people mistreat it, abuse it, and fool around with it like some jiggly water balloon.” – 18
14. “Something that feels like home, gives you endless highs, but is the closest thing to death.” – 19
15. “Love is all about fucking.” – 19
16. “I don’t know what love is.” – 19
17. “Give and take.” – 19
18. “Unconditional.” – 19
19. “Not worth it.” – 19
20. “An overrated, intangible misconception that people still continuously search for.” – 19
21. “Love is letting him do it in the butt.” – 19
22. “Suffering for someone.” – 19
23. “Knowing that you can rely on this person more than you can rely on yourself.” -19
24. “A best friend.” – 19
25. “Love is not real.” – 20
26. “Loving you even after I saw your flaws.” – 20
27. “Love, easily, is pure honesty- with yourself and others. More importantly, love is psychosomatic, but that’s okay. After all, aren’t we allowed to make things up? – 21
28. “Fake, people settling for the best they can.” – 21
29. “Enhanced dopamine, overload of serotonin, and a fuckload of adrenaline.” – 21
30. “Socially constructed.” – 22
31. “Love is an unexplainable happiness that is experienced by someone and has no limit. It is unparalleled to any other feeling.” – 22
32. “What do the kids say these days? Swipe right? Or left?” – 41
33. “Love is like a candle, bright but full of tears.” – 43
34. “Love is selfless. When you love someone, you just want to love them, no need for them to return your love” – 45
35. “Never-ending.” – 46
36. “Loving something or someone else more than you love yourself.” – 47
37. “Love can be anything- seeing another person who means the world to you through how you perceive each other. Deep emotions.” – 70
After receiving all these answers, I still don’t have a definition for love.
But what I do know, is that love is everywhere. Love is when you spare a dollar for the homeless man who always sits by the corner store. Or when you hold the door open for someone. Love is when my roommate turns off the lights and pulls the covers on me when I accidentally fall asleep. Love is when my best friend shows up with a box of donuts. Love is when my little sister draws pictures of me. Love is “text me when you get back safely,” and “you’re such an idiot.” Love is losing yourself in someone like they are the ocean and you are desperate to drown.
— originally posted on The Odyssey Online
summer daydreams
she is beautiful
she is strong
she is the apocalypse.
she is the breath caught in your throat
and the stumble between your heartbeats
she is a swirl of bubblegum skies
and chapped stick kisses
she tastes like honey
and summer daydreams
she reminds you of an ocean
breathless, breathtaking
relentless
she is gentle
she is lost
and she loves you
750 dollars
if brokenness had a price, it would be $750
with tax, $753
for five nights, I was worth $3750
that’s pretty expensive
and you called me pretty
but pretty or not, you broke me in every way possible
a conversation
him: take off your shirt
me: I, um, I don’t think–
him: c’mon baby, I know you want to feel good
me: I don’t know if I–
him: I’ll take it off for you
I have lost so much of myself in past relationships
so many countless hours of calls that I didn’t want to answer
endless murmurs of no’s that end up becoming maybes and then yeses
it wasn’t his fault that I didn’t want to do anything
wasn’t his fault that I was incapable of saying no
that I couldn’t say no
because I wanted it to be good
I wanted to be good
I still get flashbacks from times I would rather not remember
I still ask myself every day why I did those things
why I said those things when I wanted to cry
why I let him take off my shirt and unhook my bra
why I said it was okay, keep going, it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt
but it wasn’t okay, I wanted to stop, and it did hurt
did I really want to be loved that badly?
to have ruined all the parts with dignity left in me?
was I incapable of loving myself?
even now, I still struggle to say no when I don’t want to do something
and I’m slowly learning that saying no doesn’t make me weak
it doesn’t make me any less of a person
saying no makes me strong
because it means that I am choosing myself
I am choosing to love myself
liquid guilt 