Dear S,

Two nights ago I had a dream about you. And all my feelings, all those painful illusions I have had for the last six years, they were resurrected. I woke up missing you, and for the next two days I lived of you. I forgot the real world and I let you consume me. I went back to you and I missed you all over again. Tonight, I'm saying goodbye.

For six years, I loved you unconditionally. I loved you, and I remembered you, and I needed you. I'm so sorry, but I cannot do that anymore. I need to accept my past for what it is and then I need to go into the future. And that's okay.

You were my first love, you were the boy who for six years I held onto to as some sort of hope. I wrote about magic strings, about the universe having some magic in it to bring us back together again. I wished for it and every time I'd have a dream about you, you were back in my life on page one. You became my oxygen, just like you were that summer, when I was nothing but a child. A beautiful child who fell in love for the first time, a child who needed you to remind me that I was more, so much more, than I gave myself credit for.

And first love never dies, it becomes this feeling buried deep into our skin, and it lives along with us, as we grow, it grows too, into memories, into mistakes, into regret and into passion.

I loved you and I always will, but I need to accept that you are my past. And just because I had you then, just because I never had you really, just because my past is great, it doesn't mean that my future cannot be great too. I truly believe that one day it will. I need to believe. I keep telling myself that I am no romantic but I am. Of course I am, I held onto a dream for six years and I never let it die, and I didn't let it kill me either.

If there were those magic strings between lovers then maybe you'd come back to me, but I cannot live of that hope any longer. I need to put you behind me. You and your gorgeous smile and that beautiful letter, that e-mail that turned my world upside down. S, I wish you love, I wish you the greatest love one could possibly have. But I need to wish that for myself too.

We aren't children anymore, and the fact is, I will probably never see you again. I have come to accept that. I have come to accept that this is probably my last dream of you. I have to accept that you are my past but not my future. I have to accept that this is my last letter to you.

And if one day I feel like I need you all over again, I'll live with it, but I won't let it consume me. I'll turn you into literature, I'll turn feelings into words and I'll gracefully move forward. As you have. Because no one does what I do, let failed love stories control their lives for no reason at all. Except we never really failed, have we? No, of course we haven't. We were the most beautiful story I know. A story, but not a possibility. Good on paper, but just not possible in the real world. The world into which I must return now.

S, my love for you is unconditional. It will live along my side as I grow older and let other love stories enter my heart.

Take care, I wish you everything, I little bit of heaven, and a little bit of hell.

V

My magic strings

My dreams control my life. I fell asleep last night and dream of S, and I woke up with all my feelings for him resurrected. I do this to myself, I let them get under my skin and I go over the heartbreak all over again. I miss him now. I miss him and I want him and I'd give him anything to know where he is. The tragedy of it all though is that I know that I will never find out. I will never see him again, or hear of him, I will never know more than I already do. The thought terrifies me. How is it possible that when we're children we feel so much? And when we grow into adults, the feelings become numb, we're unable to give ourselves away with the same strength?

S, I want to believe in magic strings. Come find me, and I'll come fly away with you.

Fly with me...

I feel trapped in relationships because people have attachments, whilst I destroy mine. Belonging is painful to me because it ties me down and I don’t want to be tied down. I want to be free, I want to fly, to run, to swim, to breathe and get inspired and let the wind take me away to wherever it blows. Most people don’t do that, they like having their home and their secret places, they like having a shore to come back to. I like coming back to different shores. Whenever I set out to sea, I go somewhere new. I guess I’m looking for a restless spirit who can fly along my side, who is just as keen to discover the world as I am.

(Source: Yana Payusova, http://farbrook.net/payusova/)

Will they ever be forgiven? That question wraps up around my body and I cannot let it go. Will they? Does any of us really get a chance for a clean slate to free ourselves from our past mistakes? Can we let go of the past and judge someone solely on the basis of who they are today, of who they promise to become tomorrow?

They throw themselves into religion, but with what purpose? They seek redemption, like all of us do. But is the world too unforgiving? We praise the bible and the church but it is those two institutions that press us to forgive, to give chances. But do we listen? Will we ever look at criminals and see just humans, in the exact forms in which they came to us, in the forms in which they plead redemption.

I forgive because I know. Because once it's touched you, once you've become that child who is punished for her fathers crimes, your eyes are renewed to a new light. Life is no longer black and white because it can also be stark red, the color of blood, or blue, or brown, or multicolored. The color of the ocean, the color of hope, of death, of art and tragedy culminated into one. I forgive, but I was taught to. I was taught to by him, by his mistakes, and although I've let go of him, although I no longer think of him or miss him, I forgive him. Will you do the same for me?

Will we ever forgive them? Do they need us to?

So what shall I tell you? That I don't go to my classes because I cannot make them feel important? Or that I stay up all night rushing through my feelings so I'm too exhausted to hear my alarm clock the next morning? Because both would be true but neither will be said.

My mum isn't talking to me and I miss her. It seems like people play such stupid games to deem themselves some fake importance, to make life meaningful in some sense, to pretend that we're here for a reason and that there's standards we must measure up to. But there are no standards really, right? Just those that our parents or our teachers uphold us to. When did they forget how difficullt it is to be young? When everything can come crushing down from just one wrong feeling, when we still believe our hearts and the promises people make to us...

I don't want to die without any scars. Would you understand that? Or would you tell me that truly wise people learn from the mistakes of others and not their own? But wouldn't that be a life lived through someone else? Wouldn't that mean that I'd be like a guest at a drive-in cinema, watching the huge screen as people lived out there, as they loved and fell and lost their way, only to find a better one later?

I have a choice to make. Next week, I could either go there, to Peter Pan, or I could stay here and be the perfect example of a student that is required of me by your standards. Will you still love me if I choose the former?

I drown in irrelevance.

Have a safe flight Peter Pan. Second star to the right and straight on til morning.

You know that feeling? That feeling when you just want the right thing to fall into the right place, not only because it’s right, but because it will mean that such a thing is still possible? I want to believe that.

(Source: Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist)

Everything is illuminated.

I look at the night sky and imagine your plane flying over my sky in just a few hours, touching the stars on its way.

Feel.

I haven't written in a while. To be honest, I just don't know where to start. I feel lost and bored and so out of place. I'm sitting in my flat alone as my flatmates are gone and I don't even know what country I'll be in tomorrow, and she asks me what it depends on and I honestly don't know. Does it depend on him or does it not, am I okay or am I not okay, can I love or I can I not. I just don't know anymore. I watched Mona Lisa Smile today and it's so beautiful and nice, a safe haven with wonderful friendships and cigarettes. I wish I could go there... but if I'm honest with myself, I doubt that would help. I doubt anything will. I just, I want to feel so much. I'm tired of being this empty shell, of not feeling, of not caring about anything. I want to feel, I want something big to happen and I want to feel something big about it. I want to feel feel feel feel feel.

Feel.

And now that I've type the word out this many times it looks strange as words often do. Feel... wha a strange word. Feel...

Feel...

Feel...

Feel feel feel... Is it actually a word? What a strange one.

Give me one wild word. Except for me the answer isn't in 'mosaic'. The answer is in love but I've become immune to it. Immune to love, that should be my new status update. Wouldn't that trigger an interesting discussion? Feel...

Too close to home.

“I don’t know how to exist in a world where my dad doesn’t.”
“Yes, that never really changes.”

(Grey's anatomy)

I envy cats; they lead such peaceful lives.

Boredom.

The feeling I've been dealing with mostly lately is boredom. I feel bored, practically all the time. And I know there's the whole deal about 'only boring people get bored' and you have to create your own fun, blah blah, but it's difficult for me. Somedays I feel that I'm not in an enough of an intellectually stimulating environment. I don't feel my brain expanding or anything changing in me. So I hardly attend lectures because I find them dull and repetitive. And seminars, those are compulsory but even those I find hard to attend. I just sit there and think 'what the hell am I here for?'

I'm not sure if this has something to do with the change I've undergone lately: I've stopped believing in everything I have happily accepted before. Morality, ethics, a great purpose...

Most nights I find myself on the windowsill smoking my cigarettes and listening to music. And going out there and doing something just feels so purposeless. I mean it's not like I don't have things to do. I am buried in assignments and courseworks right now, and then there's people who I have been neglecting I admit, and the cinema, and everything else. But I just sit here instead. And I write too. I am writing my novel, which right now feels better than ever. I have come such a long way. When I started it I was a confused fourteen year old, and here I am now, practically an adult, and so much of it makes sense and I finally know where I'm going with it. It's been 5 years!

But still, boredom is like an illness you need to cure I guess. Over and over again.

Boredom, do you think it's a sickness?

Someday love will finally be enough

I'm no romantic. In fact, most days I don't even know what love is, or if I believe in it. I guess deep inside I don't because it's too easy. And I haven't really seen it work. But when I hear him laugh, its like the whole universe lights up. Because although we change and grow, our laughter stays the same. And here he is, fifteen years later, laughing just like he did when he was six, and I feel time evaporate and the world gain some purpose. I once wrote that there is no purpose in life, but some things matter enough to keep going. He matters enough for me to keep going. If only he was closer though... Maybe then my constant boredom of life would finally dissipate because I'd know what I was living for, I'd know that my days aren't empty, that there's a point to them, because I'm with him. Funny, I just said that I'm no romantic.

I found a new favorite place in the world. Sitting on my windowsill, lights off, music on, the night crawling in on me, the cigarette in my hands and words in my eyes. I dont know what I feel most the time. It's like I'm sad over something that's not there, like if when I was little someone stole something from me, and if only I could figure out what that something is. Then I could claim it back. But I don't know, and I have to live without it. I don't mind sadness really, it's inspiring. Happiness generates nothing in me. I don't know how to define it even. Maybe this still sadness is my happiness. Maybe.

It's sad because when I was child I believed in morals and values and I was convinced, I would fight to the death, for all these concepts that seemed so real. But now morality doesn't exist, there is no such thing. There is nothing absolute. There is just doubt and human ambition, and the desire to achieve something unachievable. I wish for certainty in a world of uncertainty. I wish for impossible things.

Most love stories dont work out because there's too many people who believe they should have a say in what happens. God, do cigarettes add perspective to life. I feel like cigarettes are the only constant part of my life. And in my age, I need that certainty, of there being something, at least one thing, that no one can take away from me.

I remembered the sea shelled chocolates my grandmother used to give us when we were little. Each was like a treat in itself. And then I remembered that that is a memory from over fifteen years ago. And it will never happen again. Time is like a speeding race car, and you're inside it, and if only you could get out and stay, if only it could go ahead without you and you could stay in something beautiful. If only I didnt have to keep driving.

I bought my first cigarette pack today. Life's too fucking stressful.

The leaves are yellow outside my window, it's autumn and it's beautiful. There's so much beauty out there but tonight all I see is sadness. But it's a nice kind of sadness because it's the sadness of having tried but failed. But the attempt matters more than the fall. Today I went through my third break-up. I looked in his loving eyes, this beautiful boy who if let, would give me the universe, and then I said it. And it scares me because I cannot figure out whether I'm just broken, unable to feel anything and that I'll live my whole life dreaming of something bigger and always conforming for something small, or whether there's a reason for why I have to wait. And if it's that, then that's fine, I'll wait forever if I have to, I told you before Peter, haven't I? But if it's not... I'm just so afraid to be dissapointed. I'm afraid that I'm doing something wrong.

There's this boy in New York city and I love him... and I guess nothing else matters that much. Because regardless of how cynical any one of us really is, love obliterates that. It creates a romantic out of every cynic.

I don’t know how to be something you miss…

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

Listening to Taylor Swift's new album 'Speak now' is making me wish for something great, for something really really great. I've never really been the kind of girl to jump head first into love, not that I was ever put in a position where I could have done that. I grew up amongst a messy divorce and for an 8 year old I saw too much and heard too many conversations, and so childhood taught me that life is messy, men can be terrible people, and hearts break too easily. I was taught to not be stupid. I was taught to stay safe and to put my interests above those of men. I was never taught to love. To recklessly love... And here I am listening to these beautiful words and some of the lyrics I want to engrave in my skin and carry around with me like precious pebbles, because they're so alive, so real and so young. That's youth, isn't it? That's loving without looking ahead, living for today and not tomorrow, what we're meant to be doing. What I never did because something inside me taught me not to. And I listen and I envy her, I envy her ability to be so beautiful and young, and I envy her for feeling so much. I envy those girls who loved, and love, and will keep doing it in spite of everything that tells them not to.

I feel so old, so grown up and way ahead of my own age. It's almost like I'm just looking at all these kids around me and I don't feel like a part of it, because I'm not a child, because my innocence left me before it had time to join me, and because I taught my heart to behave and never gave it freedom to be reckless.

I wish for love, for feeling something immense and for the inability to be rational because rationality ceases to exist and there is no definition for right and wrong. I want to fall in love. I want you, Peter Pan, there's something inside me that tells me that you're the reason why it never worked in the past. Because it wasn't meant to. All that was meant to be is you. All that is meant to be, is you.

I miss the past. And I fear that the future will never be able to give me what the past took away.

I've abandoned this for a while but I'm back now. I have all these questions in my head and I feel like the longer I wait the more confusing everything becomes. You know how simple everything really is? Why do we always complicate things? It's almost like unless we complicate it all and make it one major mess up after another, our life will have no substance.

There's this boy, I call him Peter Pan because in my eyes he will always be the seven year old I once fell in love with. He's far away and he's not here now, and I miss him. I miss him because when I talk to him the world makes more sense. Or maybe it doesnt make much more sense but it's alright that it doesn't. Because it doesn't really matter that everything a blur, I'm not alone. I have him and he is the best person I've ever known. He screws up and makes mistakes and right is doing a lot of stupid things but he's so human. I am not in love with him, but I love him. And I know that that could change. I know that give me any sense of hope of there being more to this, I would sacrifice my whole life for him. And it kills me that no one other girl will ever see all that there is inside him, but to him that won't matter. Because he won't know the difference.

I managed to get myself into some stupid relationship once again. When I left last year I promised to not do this but here I am. I am dating this boy who I dont feel anything towards. And I promise myself each day to end it and then I don't because a part of me says 'who cares?' We're young, the future is ahead and right now it's too far away to matter. Why not live and have fun and be reckless and just experience? I guess because none of what I'm doing qualifies as such. I need to end it. I'm no longer the kind of girl who is afraid to be alone.

I am so good at it that I enjoy it. I want to get away to my room and let my itunes replace the whole universe around me. I want to be alone to watch movies about better places, and vanish into the limitless space before me, the one inside my computer screen, the one that grabs me by the arms and takes me with it.

And then a part of me is afraid that this will never change. That I'll never learn to settle down and that I'll push everyone away forever. What if letting someone in never stops being painful? But there's too many what if's. There's the what if of me not having met the right person yet, or the what if of me creating a problem out of a solution, or a dozen others that I can no longer care to specify.

What if life, what if it zooms by me and I never learn to feel? Literature is my God, art, and music, and words, they are my religion, they are what I believe. But in the absolute world of facts and figures and bodies made of real atoms, there I am a non-believer. Who really cares? Except I get days when I, I care! I care about being sucessful and independent and stern, and I wish for it and I fear failing. I wish for independence and freedom, the road to which I see through money, and for that I need to care and I need to fight and I need to integrate.

And so I do.

Sometimes I find the most ordinary things so odd; like how most people can control one hand better than another, or some can roll their tongue and others cant... I just have this problem that I cannot see anything evident in things; I'm like a newborn child still fascinated with everything around me. Nothing is an obvious matter to me, I see it all like magic. Life is a magic trick, and I'm the child who never figured out the clowns.

Loving lying enemy...

'Forgiveness' by Sarah McLachlan is a beautiful song...

I'm going back to England tomorrow, after having spent the last few days back at home doing nothing in particular. I'm both excited and kind of scared about going back actually. I love new beginnings and changes so that's the great part, organising everything all over again and starting over. The scary is just some past mistakes that I hope haven't made it into my present. But for now that's irrelevant I guess, until it becomes a problem, if it does.

And to add something on an entirely different subject, I watched 'Eat pray love' today and it's definitely a little too long and daunting for what I expected, but it did have some nice lines and moments. 'Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.' I find that beautiful.

See you across the English channel!

Flaws that make us human

I'm trying to figure out how anonymous I need this blog to be. Truth is I used to have a blogspot blog before which wasn't anonymous or secretive or anything of the matter. It was everything about me spilled on canvas, every thought and feeling and worry and secret. I wasn't hiding my identity, but neither was I advertising my site to people I knew. A few close friends had the url and the rest was up to strangers stumbling on it and becoming a part of it. It lasted for about 8 months until one day I realized how anyone I know could google search something random and end up on my page, reading words that weren't meant to be read by them or making judgements which they were in no state to make or just making me vulnerable by knowing too much. And I got scared. I felt so scared that here I was, spilled all over a webpage with no protection, available to the whole world to see. And so I blocked the page and put a password on it and no one can access it any longer, and so like that I left that blog as some historical document of a phase in my life when I wasn't afraid to be out there for everything to rip apart. And now here I am, wondering what would be a perfect middle. Revealing some sort of identity immediately ties you up to stereotypes or limits you from saying what you truly intend to, as you always have to wonder what will the people think... and leaving it like this, as an anonymous confession to the internet, I guess it's safe and anticipates a longer future to this whole affair.

I'm home now, dim light and everything, just as before. Except I am no longer at the edge of the globe, in that frozen house where time seems to not play its role. In a few hours my sister will wake and it'll be her birthday, and all I really feel about this, about her becoming 21, about irreversibly growing older, is how much I hate having to accept it. She's the one person who I need to always stay little, by my side, never older, never really an adult. It scares me and terrifies me and always having seen her as the embodiment of perfection makes it hard to finally see the flaws that make her human. But I guess that's a phase we all go through.

only when you must

This world is hard. It has sharp edges and points that cut. It'll make you choose between love, money and sleep. Choose love each time and sleep when you can, money - only when you must.

(I wrote this for you)

The driving me mad driving...

I've spent the day going over and over past papers for my theory driving exam which I'm taking this Friday and I cannot even describe the extent of my boredom before such an excruciating Monday. I mean, okay, Monday's have always sucked but this is just too much even for me to handle! And the worst of it is that I don't feel like I've improved in the slightest, I still keep getting too many mistakes and starting all over again in hope of a better result next time around. But nope, never happens...

But other than that I'm feeling pretty excited about going back to University in exactly 6 days and starting my second year as a philosophy and french student. And I really hope that I'll enjoy my philosophy modules this year way more than I did last year! I've been working out my timetable for this semester and it looks pretty interesting so far.

But anyway, as I find myself in the exact same spot as the one from which I wrote yesterday's entry (but in a definitely better mood than then, so no self-pity is expected to submerse me into its dark powers, or so I hope) I am going to continue my daunting task of past papers and pointless tagging of old pictures on facebook and leave this entry as it is as my mind has hardly been filled with anything other than driving today.

Good night and 'til next time!

'Brown'

I'm sat in the kitchen with a dim light on my right being the only source of illumination. The dog is sleeping on the sofa a couple of metres away from me, and I'm sat with my hair wet from the shower and my eyes tired. It's funny but every night I practically torture mysef with the lack of sleep because going to sleep and wasting those hours of silence away in my bed feels like the biggest waste. Since childhood I've found something so enchanting about the night that I just can't stay away. It attracts me. It's low tones forcing melancholy down my throat, everything somehow becoming that more significant, and then again being ridiculed with the rise of the sun as if the two are interlinked and essential for eachothers well-being.

I think one of my biggest flaws is that I soak in self-pity. I look over all the pathetic little details of my life and find new ways to feel sorry for myself too often. And it's excruciating.

My sister is a beautiful blonde. And so is my mother. Everyone keeps telling them how alike they are and how my sister is my mother in her youth. They're heartbreakers, beautiful and fascinating and different. And secretly, I guess I envy that. And that's terrible but to hell with being perfect, I can't pretend to be that in my writing.

I don't remember a day when I looked in the mirror and was okay with the girl looking at me. It's not that I'm 'ugly' but I'm just not what I need to be. I'm the plain boring brunette associated since childhood with color 'brown', which is something I remember being ashamed of when I was little. It's like I've always been associated with masculine elements. The dark big shadow. Dark, dark, always dark. There's nothing graceful or feminine and alluring, it's just color 'brown' spilt all over the canvas. And that's bothered me my entire life. Because I never felt 'little' or beautiful, I've felt serious and bigger than anyone around me, not that that's the truth.

And here's the perfect example of my self-pity. As I listen to Missy Higgins on my i-tunes and deny myself my beauty sleep, I'm going over all these little details and feeling 'brown'.

Make my heart stop beating.

I have this friend, or quite possibly used to have, who fell for me. And I kept wondering what wasn't enough about him, why, despite rationaly understanding that he met all the criteria that I look for, he just doesn't do it, and I cannot see him as anything more. He's smart and he's funny, he makes me laugh, and his ideas interest me because unlike with other people, what he says is unpredictable, and he comes from a good family and I think he gets me, he finds something fascinating about me that even I don't see. He, you could say, is the perfect match. Except, he isn't.
I've tried to figure it out for almost a year now, why imagining myself with him only brings claustrophobia to me. It's like he's too safe. Too predictable. And I would never need him as much as he'd need me. I look at him and I guess in a way he is still an open book, a long ago read and put away on a shelf for display book.
My mother believes me to be someone much better than I am. She somehow see's something in me that I really don't feel matches the reality. She thinks that I'll do great for myself because I know exactly what I want, because I know what man I need and I won't conform for less. But, but somehow I doubt it. Because despite knowing what I want, I'm not hopeful. I'm so insecure about myself and about the possibility of greatness in the future.
I need someone who can make my heart stop beating, who would make my heart skip not one beat but ten, and who would excite me and make me nervous and exctatic. But I guess that's what we all need, right? And although I know what I want, I'm not sure that they'd want me. Or that life is like the movies and that it is possible to feel so good. Fine, I'm only eighteen and life is ahead of me, but the only time I've come even close to it is when watching someone else, movies with those perfect men. But in life, in life there's nothing like it. And those men are actually flawed boys who lack imagination or passion to steal my heart.
Mark, you're a wonderful boy, maybe even a great one, but that safety that you convey to me, it isn't what I want. I want chaos, I need it, I'm searching for it. And you, you will find her, the girl who will see in you what I see in them, and then you'll know the wait was worth it.
And I hope that so will I.

Ethics

So today I've been thinking about ethics. Einstein said that there's relativity only in physics, but not in ethics, but I don't think I agree any longer. It's just that having become this nihilistic person has made me forget ethics all together. If we're all here just for some time, as if borrowing the world for some years whilst we realize our ambitions, and then we leave leaving not even a trace of ourselves, then what's the point? I guess I've accepted long ago that there's no purpose, and that's hard because it makes me reckless in a way where nothing really seems too much. There is no limit, who really cares if I fuck my life up royally when eventually none of it will matter? My grandmother told me today about the factory in which she worked many years ago, and how all the people she worked with our dead now, and that really gets to you. To realize that all those stories you've just heard about their youth, well, they're scratched. Those people are dead and their lives never mattered. So I guess what I'm saying is why bother with ethics if this is insignificant. Okay, I guess ethics towards some things does matter, like respecting other people's rights to life, because otherwise the world would just become utter chaos, but if it's things that affect only you, then why do we keep judging? I have a 19 year old girl friend who is sleeping, or was, whatever it is now, with a 55 year old man. And I guess that sounds wrong in some way and it's hard to process for me due to the fact that I've known this girl since we were children and I would have never imagined that this is where we'd end up, but the more I think about it, there's nothing wrong with anything she's doing. Fine, he's a wealthy minister involved in some dirty business and also the father of her friend, but maybe it just sounds wrong (at least it would have to me if I were even a little younger) because we've been instilled these ideas. Because if I think about it, there is nothing really that wrong with it, and why not? We're all going to die anyway so why are we, or me, trying to be so correct? Why am I so afraid to become something different from what I am? It's just sex, and it's just life, and it's just timeline that we essentially rent for our lifetime, but at the end it perishes into nothingness and never matters.
I guess ethics is relative, or in a way maybe even inexistent , just some human invention created to limit us, scare us off and control, get into our minds and make sure that no one goes too far.

source: unicorn diaries

How I long for that freedom:

Take me with you. I want a doomed love. I want streets at night, wind and rain, no one wondering where I am.
(Michael Cunningham)

Babushka:

Thirteen:

If everybody married someone from a different race then in one generation there would be no prejudice.
(Evan Rachel Wood)

Paris, je t'aime:

Source: Icanaymayer

Source: oh, magpie

With stories that end sad, you go on feeling sad afterward, you’re not hungry, you think about it for a long time, and when you look at the book’s cover, you say to yourself, ‘They just go on being unhappy in there…’ You think about what you could do to make things right, you imagine writing the next story where everything would work out…
(The Collected Stories of Collette)

This summer I'll find a new way:

And so with the sunshine and great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
(Fitzgerald)

In between it all, I grew up.

I had no illusions about love anymore. It came, it went, it left casualties or it didn’t. People weren’t meant to be together forever, regardless of what the songs say.
(Sarah Dressen)

MKA:

(Source: nelogika)

WeLiveYoung

I feel so very tired.

You don't know me and you don't even care.

Amanda Norgaard:

Love me back:

I've discovered Marina V last night who is a Russian singer from LA with a beautiful voice.

Ten days

But time has changed nothing at all -
You're still the only one that feels like home.

(Missy Higgins)

Rooney live ! .
Waiting for Eureka to come out...

As it is, I can't settle.

Y hoy sólo quiero creer que recordarás las tardes de invierno por Madrid,
las noches enteras sin dormir.
(Un cafe con sal -La Oreja de Van Gogh)

Aujourd'hui j'essayerai de faire les choses d'une manière plus raisonnable.

My thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, I can live only wholly with you or not at all. Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together. Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.
Ever thine
Ever mine
Ever ours.
(Beethoven)

Yes, losing your heart's desire is tragic. But gaining your heart's desire? That's all you can hope for. This year I wished for love... to immerse myself in someone else and to wake a heart long afraid to feel. My wish was granted. And if having that is tragic, then give me tragedy. Because I wouldn't give it back for the world.
(Peyton Sawyer, One tree hill)

Take me to Paris and make me forget

WeLiveYoung

I'm a writer and a dreamer and a listener and here I post everything that piles up and makes me feel like myself. Pictures which I find inspiring or strong or powerful, songs which make me feel alive and create the soundtrack of my room, or words which revolutionize my world. Its everything and nothing, all in one page.

The thing is that love… love is what is still there after everything, that big, overwhelming love, that’s like the glare of snow on a sunny day, when your riding through that snow and all you see is whiteness, blinding you, obliterating everything, and you still go through it, go into that blinding glare, even though you dont know where your feet will end up or if you’ll fall off the road and into the river or run into a mountain. you still go.
Love does that to you.
It obliterates you.
(Love, and Other Uses for Duct Tape, Carrie Jones)

Take me to NYC

WeLiveYoung

WeLiveYoung

It's not hard to die when you know you have lived - Edie Britt

Все умрут а я останусь

We need a witness to our lives.

We need a witness to our lives. You're saying "Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un- witnessed because I will be your witness"

Shall we dance