#wolfintheforest

The past few months of my life have been quite a trial. I lost the love of my life as he decided that we should part ways. It was extraordinarily painful. The man I truly believed that would be mine forever, that I would marry and have children with someday, was gone in a heartbeat. I do not believe these thoughts were naive. We were young, but our love was true, passionate, and strong and he too believed that we could be together until death. But we spent too long physically apart. We stumbled and wandered from our path, getting lost and separated. I was incredibly lucky enough to find someone else who understood my loss, and did not ask me to move on. Rather he gave me time, allowed me to express my pain while giving me his love, and accepting what love I could give him in return. He gave up an addiction for me. He kept me safe in his arms, night after night, always kind and caring. I learned to be happy again. Truly happy...something I had not felt in a very long time. Unfortunately, after a short few months, I made one mistake too many. I lost him. To lose two true loves in such a short period of time has brought a pain upon me that I cannot possibly describe. As you read this, I'm sure many of you will scoff, call me foolish. How can I possibly know what true love is at just 19 years old? How can I possibly have fallen in "true love" with two young men in such a short period of time? I will not deny that perhaps it seems unlikely. However I know it to be true. For I know when I truly love someone. I do not give such love to many. I have only truly loved few people in my life. And if these loves were not true, I would not feel the pain that I do at their loss. I am not asking for pity. I ask for nothing. I simply wish to have a place to express my emotions. My closest friends have told me to give up on regaining even his friendship. It's been a long, dark two weeks since he spoke a single word to me, despite my deepest efforts to make things right. So, my friends, here I am. Alone and sad once again, I wish only for another chance, for one last attempt to show him that I truly want to make this work. I am immensely happier with him by my side and I really can't express in words the terrible pain I feel without him. So wish me luck, tumblr friends. Help me find a way to show him that I deserve another chance...wish me luck..

I am homesick for New York City, and it's not even my home.

I feel like I’ve been very absent lately. As if my passion has been misplaced, drawn from my bones and hidden somewhere inside of me. I am an intensely passionate woman, in the things I enjoy, the people I love, the words that I speak, the thoughts that I think. When I love, it is not intermittent, submissive, or fleeting. It is whole. It is committed, unconditional, and burns with fiery passion. I would write paragraphs to my lover every day to tell him how much I love him and why. I suppose it isn’t always easy for others to understand such intense love and emotions. I always feel empty when I express so much to someone I love, only to get a short and simple response in return. My heart tricks me. My mind knows that a simple response is just as full of love as my paragraphs, but my heart bleeds out, expecting to be refilled by returned passion. But lately, I’ve been feeling blank. Like a page, clean and unwritten. No ink drops, no words, sketches or scribbles. An unfortunately normal page in a book filled with excitement. I’ve been neglecting my desires, my burning passions, pushing them away inside of myself to make room for normality. I’m told that I can’t be alight with strange curiosity, pour out such intense love, break down in tears and anxiety, cling to a loved one…it’s as if emotions and excessive passion get in the way of being “normal”. For some, normality may be satisfying. But I need excitement. I need that rush of adrenaline when I do something dangerous or frowned upon. I need the feeling of love bursting from my veins for all of the world to see. I need scribbles on my pages. To keep ones passions burning inside is a disaster. They will only end up going up in flames. Passion cannot be tamed or quieted. Nothing can put the flame out. Don’t let your book be full of blank pages, let it be a beautiful mess. Let there be scribbles and images, words uncensored, the blood of your heart, the burns of your passion. It is then that you will find your happiness.