Celeste

There were days when she was very happy without knowing why. She was happy to be alive and breathing, when her whole being seemed to be one with the sunlight, the color, the odors, the luxuriant warmth of some perfect Southern day. She liked then to wander alone into strange and unfamiliar places. She discovered many a sunny, sleepy corner, fashioned to dream in. And she found it good to dream and to be alone and unmolested.There were days when she was unhappy, she did not know why—when it did not seem worth while to be glad or sorry, to be alive or dead; when life appeared to her like a grotesque pandemonium and humanity like worms struggling blindly toward inevitable annihilation

I heard what you said. I’m not the silly romantic you think. I don’t want the heavens or the shooting stars. I don’t want gemstones or gold. I have those things already. I want…a steady hand. A kind soul. I want to fall asleep, and wake, knowing my heart is safe. I want to love, and be loved.

I think back often, and I can’t help but wonder- did you really know me at all? Through all of the laughter and the silly questions and late nights exchanging messages… did you ever dig deep enough into me to care for more than a minute? I like to believe I found out as much as you allowed me to know. But to you I opened my heart and bared my soul, and I’m not sure if you truly saw me or not. I don’t know if you’re blind or if you just chose to turn away. Maybe it’s better if you didn’t actually know me. Because I like to think that you’re not heartless, and it would be infinitely more cruel if you had taken everything I gave you and then, after all this time, still decided to leave without a second glance.

He changed her. He changed her in a way that she can’t undo. And she hated it. She could not feel anymore. She didn’t care, really. She broke hearts without even wondering about the possible damage. She was a storm, destroying every heart that crossed her path. Of course, she knew it was wrong. She knew. But that did not stop her. She envied those innocent hearts, willing to risk everything they had for this one stupid thing: love. Oh, love. So powerful, yet so destructive. It brought her so high, only to drop her lower than she has ever been.

Getting lost was not a matter of geography so much as identity, a passionate desire, even an urgent need, to become no one and anyone, to shake off the shackles that remind you who you are, who others think you are.

Some days I can go nearly an hour without thinking of the taste of your mouth.

I’m always soft for you, that’s the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say ‘come here, it’s been too long, it felt like home with you.