Magic and Sparkles

In an alternate universe somewhere, there’s a version of me that ends up with a version of you. And in every other alternate universe, I find you and I fall in love with you whether we last or not. This I know. Because the amount of things I feel when I simply think about you can’t be limited to this life alone.

“Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, it’s not meant to be. That person you try so hard for, will not be as interested as you want them to be, and that is the problem.”

“I think I could remember your love in a thousand different ways. I always start with remembering you as pain. I always have that initial drop-gut feeling, where I remember sobbing into pillow sheets, sobbing into your old t-shirts, sobbing into the phone. But after? I remember our love in light. I remember guilty teasing and lips that brushed and your hand in mine. I remember our love in the steady beat of your heart under my ear. Your shampoo smell in my clothes. I think the crinkles you get by your eyes when you smile are imprinted into the back of my brain. I remember our love as heat, as skimming fingertips and whispering “I love you’s" into your throat and your palm and your mouth. I remember our love like as if it was tattooed into my skin. I hope you remember our love in light. I hope you don’t remember me in drunken voicemails and angry words thrown at closed doors or in the taste of another girl’s mouth. I hope you remember me in light the way I remember you in sunshine. I know that I loved you with a fire in my heart that needed to announce its love to every inch of your skin, but maybe I’ve always been burned out.”

“In my mind it’s 5 am and we’re thinking about each other but neither of us know it. In my mind you’re missing me because we left too many things unsaid, because I never got to really wrap my arms around your neck and kiss your face and say I was thankful for everything I ever felt for you. In my mind we are walking alongside the pavement on opposite sides of the road and you are so close, but not close enough. And I’m yelling at you, I’m saying ‘hi, hey, remember me?’ but you have your arm around the waist of somebody else. In my mind you’re running, I can see the blur, the flash of your person running towards me. But, when you arrive, I am not the one whose face you are touching. I am not the one whose air you are breathing. I am not the one and the truth is you left me behind a long time ago. The truth is you are here; always, constantly, irrepressibly here. And the truth is, this - all of this, has to be worth something. Right? Tell me I’m not the only one with this on my mind.”

“Maybe we met each other a little too soon, to have a love that was supposed to last forever.”

“It is a lonely feeling when someone you care about becomes a stranger.”

“I still wake up with things to tell you. One day, I won’t. I will learn placid acceptance. I will stop panicking when I can’t perfectly remember the pitch of your voice or the curve of your jawline. The smell of cinnamon won’t make me sad anymore. At this point it’s not about finding someone to replace you. I have spread my love all over the place. It’s about trying to sleep knowing I live in a world that has your hands in it.”

“I have visions of us, spinning ‘round in my head, in complete and total happiness. It is a blessing and a curse.”

“I write about you,“ she said, "because when my words touch the paper I can pretend that you love me, and I can live in a parallel universe where things are different.”

do you think you can ever stop loving someone completely

“Suddenly she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost past but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be.”

“But how dare you,“ she said quietly, "how dare you give me hope only to take it away again. "How dare you let me believe that we could be something when all along you knew that we were nothing.””

“The idea of ‘what could have been’ is a fiction. It is a story. And you have such a vivid imagination that you have turned it into an entire fairy tale when it was simply a chapter.”