How I lost my faith

I did not lose faith on the day after my heart got broken. I did not decide that I've hurt enough, that I should give up on love once and for all.

I was more like a rock in the ocean, taking white waves after white waves, and one day when the sun rose and the world woke up, it found me already turned into a million particles of sand.

I'm terrified

Kurt Vonnegut said we can only fall in love three times in our life.

By now I know the flirting and the phases. I know the fight and the make up. I know what I want and who I can work with. I know too much I'm afraid I will never be crazy about anyone again.

I'm terrified that I will end up with a complete checklist instead of someone I love.

There are the years that ask questions

There are the years that I crumble, and there are years that I slowly pick up my pieces whislt collecting scars.

There are the years that I drink just so I can sleep and get high just so I can cry.

There are the years that I drink spiked coffee for breakfast and spiked hot chocolate before bed, knowing that I am happy right at this moment and everything will be OK.

And I know some day I will buy myself a ring because I put myself first, and some time in the future I will give that ring to my daughter, hoping that she knows she belongs to herself before anyone else.

There are the years that ask question
and the ones that answer.
_Zoey Neal Hurlston

The essence of you

 berlin-artparasites

There are things you think I want from you.

Like sipping a martini on our first date when playing with your feet under the table. The first time you kiss my ears. Or your nice suit and nice car. Like the time you look into my eyes and tell me you've never felt this way with anyone else before.

But these things don't make up the essence of you. What I want, is to know your insecurities when you're alone in your bedroom. I want to see the things that command all your attention. Your beauty and your ugliness. I want to know why darkness haunts you and how the rocks crumble beneath you.

Can I touch your soul?

The thunderstorm in my head

 I miss you. I miss the feelings I had when I was with you, laying under the sheets. Watching weekend mornings rose. Listening to the rain on Saturday afternoons. Feeling the grains of your skin.

There is a quiet ache in my heart and a heavy stone in my throat that you won't ever understand.

But I will go to sleep tonight.

I am too young to feel this way

 The Road is Home

I want to be patient with myself. I want to tell myself that it's OK to feel the way I feel, that it's OK to be the person I am. 

I want to be OK.

But I knew it was not normal to cry in my closet every other day. It was not normal to collapse into my bed at the end of every day exhausted. Wanting more. Unhappy. Questioning fairness and if I deserve what I have.

I question my decision to fall in love over and over again. I am too young to say "after all I have been through". Yet after all I have been through, is it bravery or stupidity that I have?

Home

Soon enough, no person, place, or time zone, will make you feel like home.

You will only have the bones of your body to carry the weight of your heavy heart.

That hollow space under your skin and beneath your veins, is the only true home.