haruki and cats

I like missing you so hard because it makes me feel strongly that you are not a dream, you are real, you are living, and I’ll meet you again.

I decide then that love is a terrible, terrible thing. Loving someone as fiercely…must be like wearing your heart outside of your body with no skin, no bones, no nothing to protect it.

If your hate could be turned into electricity, it would light up the whole world.

Perhaps the fact that I chased a boy who ripped me to shreds says a lot more about me than it did about him.

i honestly think that the whole concept of ‘friends with benefits’ is so skewed and misunderstood. i don’t think there should even be a title for such a thing when it can be so, so much more raw. getting to dig beneath anothers skin, allowing yourself to be detached while still so achingly present when you’re with them, finding your way around their mind and their touch and their taste and knowing that nothing at all can ever be always ours. i don’t feel that i’m the type of girl that could ever be in an open relationship, but lately i’ve come to terms with spending time with someone and taking everything as it is for now. because isn’t that all anything could ever be? just for now. i had always thought that this sort of situation would leave me feeling like a physical object, and yet i feel more established within my own skin, i’ve learned an intimacy that doesn’t need to mean something in order to mean everything; for now.