I can't even fathom how much I miss England, London, Leeds.
For whatever reason I thought it would be a good idea to look through my old photos, and I found them (is it considered finding when you know exactly where to look?) in a folder hidden inside a folder hidden inside another folder, so as not to accidentally come across it while searching for something else in the maze that is my hard-drive.
Suddenly I find it hard to breathe, like my chest is about to cave in any second now, a knot tightening inside my stomach, palms starting to sweat, memories flooding and flowing through my mind; I try my best not to grasp, cling, hold onto them. Ride it out. Just let them slip away. I find myself wondering if my eyes have changed since then, and I realize that my finger suddenly feels light, empty; there used to be a ring on it, always, and now it feels wrong, and I'm starting to panic, and the more I think about it, the worse it feels, and I'm just about ready to chop it off to get rid of this phantom sensation, and my heart aches; it misses, it longs, it craves.
Somewhere on a bench in Hyde Park, our initials are carved.
It's not even so much that I miss him, but the places, the feelings, the lightness of it all, the vividness, the safety, feeling at home. I haven't thought about any of this in so long, so long, and it's overwhelming, and I find myself wondering if I'll ever experience anything like it, ever again. A life where nothing and everything mattered, with no tomorrow to worry about, a calm place to rest, a shelter from the storm, a home. I swore never again, but what does that matter, anyway?
(I knew this wasn't a good idea.)
Spent most of the night bawling over Sherlock fanfics.
I find myself longing for someone to lay next to, someone to keep me from nightmares, someone who will hold my hand to calm me when I'm anxious, and whisper sweet nothings in my ear as we're falling asleep. Someone to wake up next to, sunlight pouring in through the blinds, and into my heart. Someone to keep me safe. For now, I'll put on my biggest flannel shirt and curl up in bed, just trying to breathe, hoping to dream of better things.
I hate intimacy, but it's far worse having nothing at all, sometimes.
#Making a Sherlock/John fanmix.
I'm in a terribly nostalgic, or maybe sad, mood today.
It's one of those grey days, somewhere between winter and spring, and all you want to do is curl up underneath the covers with someone and watch films all day, whisper secrets and snuggle. One of those days when all I want is someone that will make me laugh. I want to read but I feel restless and like none of the books I have would do. I must have twenty unread books, yet I always want more. It's a good sadness, compared to other days.
Maybe all I need is nutella and a film. It's worth a try.
"Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."
— Neil Gaiman
When I was a kid, Valentine's day meant chocolates and cheesy movies. Before my ex, I swore it was a stupid tradition and it was invented to make money. Then when I was with my ex, we'd go out for a romantic dinners and we'd give each other gifts. One year we had, actually accidentally, given each other the exact same presents--a teddybear, a box of chocolates and a mix cd (although I made a tape, of course). Everything was cheesy and dandy like in the movies I grew up watching. And now, I don't know. It does make me feel alone, and it probably was invented to make money, and maybe I would rather have a lover to spend it with, but today I am content with having a date with cake and Inigo Montoya, i.e. I'll be watching The Princess Bride. ♥___
♥
How I feel about love is an entirely different matter.
"You felt no reality, no knife of sorrow cut your intestines to bits. Only a weariness,
a longing for a shoulder to sleep on, and a pair of arms to curl up in." Sylvia Plath
♥ Eet by Regina Spektor
♥ Fools Rush In by The Morning Benders
♥ The Onliest by Feist
♥ Battle Scars by Daniel Fincannon
♥ The Air Your Breathe... by Lovers
♥ Blue Skies by Noah & the Whale
♥ Postcards From Italy by Beirut
♥ Om Nashi Me by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
♥ A Friend Indeed by Marla Hansen
♥ Come By Storm by Laura Gibson
♥ Let's Trade Skins by Great Lake Swimmers
A little mix for you.
Xanthe left me. I found out her new address,
and returned the kettle she had left behind.
The next day I took her a book she had lent
me. I found a box of hairgrips, and delivered
one each day. If she wasn't home I would
post it with a long letter explaining how I had
found it on the floor. When I had returned
them all, I took her, on the tip of my finger, a
tiny ball of dust. 'I remember seeing it fall
from your dress one afternoon,' I said. 'The
pretty one, with the flowers on it.'.
from Anthropology, by Dan Rhodes.
