— St. Therese of Lisieux (via sahumerios)

The thing is, when I lay my head to rest tonight, it may be the last time. Just as it has been every other night before me, just as it will be every night after. So I really need to start living and giving it my all. There is no time to waste.

I wonder. Do you still write me ? Sometimes I look over at our messages and just stay there awhile, waiting to see those three dots. I know you would never send it , just like I wouldn't. But its always a small beacon of hope when it appears. I don't know if I want that hope. I only know that I don't want you. There is so much sadness in that. Or maybe there is just so much sadness in me.

How do I move on from that?

I suppose, if I had to express my problem in a simpler manner, it would be that my heart is capable of falling suddenly, for those I do not know. Furthermore, if I was forced to expand on the matter, I would say that it takes nothing more than a glance or a smile, to have me on my knees declaring my loyalty before knowing a name.

I can't help but want to be back there. I want to be sat in the corner amongst the trees eating lunch as the autumn leaves dance. I want to watch as passersby move along in their day to day life, I want to wonder how many times they've walked past that same statue, if they have ever once, stopped to admire its beauty, like I always did. If I close my eyes I can be there again, I can feel the breeze caress my face, hear the music from the gazebo, smell the food from the nearby truck. I miss that feeling, of being small and insignificant, of just existing for the sake of it. It felt good to be able to watch the world go by, nowhere to go, nowhere to be. I would give anything to be there again. But I know I can never go back.

I cannot fall asleep without parted curtains. I have this need to see all that rests above me. A comfort when I wake up in the middle of the night, where for a mere second I can be reminded that we are under the same sky, and always will be. I will search for the stars, I will cry at the moon, I will drift off back into my restless sleep. I have settled on the fact that this is the only way I will be able to reach you now. And if you cannot be near me, atleast we have the moon.

And so help me. Does it hurt.

The leaves are changing colour, I can feel autumn finally creeping in. Or maybe it has been here all along and I’ve been too preoccupied to notice it. I get like that sometimes, so overwhelmed with the throes of life that I forget to just stop and take in the beauty of the world. I used to do it all the time, just stop, and breathe, and look around me to appreciate it in all its glory. I rarely go out anymore, I don’t even look outside these days. Maybe I should do that more, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to to just sit at my window, feel the breeze, watch the leaves change. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to remember that I’m still alive, and that everything will be okay eventually. Maybe as I watch the leaves change, so will I.

Siento que nos aferramos al amor. Nuestras uñas, desgarradas y ensangrentadas mientras nos aferramos desesperadamente a cualquier rastro que quede en nuestros corazones en descomposición. Pero no hay nada. No hay nada.

Si tuviera la oportunidad de hacerlo todo de nuevo. Si tuviera la oportunidad de empezar de nuevo. La oportunidad de nunca conocerte. La tomaría sin pensarlo. Oh, qué sencillo era no haberte conocido nunca.

And yet , I still keep her close.

I think about you more than I should.

I wake up. I drink the same coffee. I eat the same breakfast. I breathe the same air. I go for a walk to clear my head. I glance upon the same view. The same people. I hear the same sounds. Smell the same smells. I feel empty. I ignore it. I think of the future. Who I will be. What I will do. But it fades just as soon as the thought arrives. I'm tired. I reach out yet I feel nothing. I feel nothing. I am wasting away. Performing the same mundane tasks. My brain rotting away as each day passes. Time flies by and I simply watch it in a daze. I wish I could say it was going to get better. But sometimes it doesnt. And sometimes, you don't want it to. I dream of a tender touch. A longing kiss. A world of warmth. I dream of belonging. Of being okay. Of feeling alive. But then.. I wake up.

You. The way that your eyes change colour when they have been exposed to sunlight for extended periods of time. The way that subtle dimples form on your face when you smile softly. The way that you always manage to find a reason to smile at every little thing because you cling onto any trace of happiness you may find. The way that you laugh at the most ridiculous of things as if you’ve just been told the most hilarious of anecdotes. The way that you run your hands through your hair whenever you get nervous or are around someone you are bewitched by. The way that you lick and bite your lips so frequently that it’s to the point where they’re often sore. The way that you go out of your way to express a kindness that you often happen to lose yourself in other people. The way that you appear rough yet approach people with a touch so tender, as if they were glass and could break at any given moment. The way you get so excited at the mere mention of art, literature, or film. You realistically know near to nothing about each subject but you’re so passionate that you could talk for hours on end about it nevertheless. But more importantly, the way you that you see beauty and love in everything that surrounds you, yet cannot see it within yourself…

This is true for every day that we live. Even if it feels as though each day is pointless and repetitive, I promise you, that it is not. You are experiencing new thoughts, new feelings and new sensations with every passing day. All the days of which you are alive, are important. I promise.

Maybe one day these words will be my own again.