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i can’t listen to music without thinking about her. every piece of shitty poetry that condemns my for you page makes me think of her in our living room. she is holding bills as she sits on our couch, a calculator on the table and a glass in the other hand. i will ask her what she wants for dinner, and she will tell me. there’s something so guttural about knowing you want to love someone for the rest of your life. that little moments like a dinner order are exactly what will give you the drive to wake up and slave away to a 9 to 5. ive been thinking about what i wanna be a lot lately. i think it’s honestly teaching. philosophy. i like to imagine myself as a philosophy professor discussing love with my students, i would tell them about my little artist at home and our baby girl and how i too thought marriage was simply the removal of autonomy until it befell my door. i think that’s a normal way to feel, with tubes of ā€œthe good ol ball and chainā€ and ā€œcan’t live with her can’t live without herā€œ down our throats like prospective foie gras. but my love is gentle. it is patient. it is kind.
Mar 16, 2025

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and i made a song about you but it’s also about me and no one will ever hear it its called my thoughts and its not actually a song but the way music flies out of your mouth makes me want to say sweet nothings as i put my words with yours like a torn up half read book you keep by your bedside table that you tell yourself you’ll get around to. i play fast and loose with my actions around you, and maybe it’s too much even for me. i try to distract with overconsumption of digital content thst just fucking overwhelmes me and gets in the way of anything getting done. you’ll never read this by the way. but can i recite the pages of senseless amateur poetry i wrote about you? i never really belong anywhere, and i camouflage into a current residence until i trick myself into thinking i truly know the people i’m around. it happened once, the effect that is. im not there anymore, and i hope those people don’t hate me like i hate myself for leaving. this isn’t about you, just me rehashing horrible guy-wrenching emotions of a past (if you can even call two years ago the past), and things i don’t talk about. im the most observant person ever, and you wouldn’t expect it. i’m so sensitive, i pick up every little movement someone does and i overthink everything thst happens before and after a conversation, guilt racks me after any social gathering and i wonder if i said anything wrong. but there’s so much to be grateful for life is so so beautiful im so lucky to be alive and have this device that i’m emotionally giving myself to and have given my life to. i love love, life, and people and i already made a long post about this im not reiterating. and i love how i can see you everyday and stand on the sidelines as your hype man in your game of love, ill hold the water bottle of my unrequited longing, ready to serve drops of my musings of you only to accidentally pour myself onto you.
Mar 26, 2025
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Are they the tingling feelings that you look back at or the fragments of memories that you struggle to picture in your head? Do you ever miss a person that you don’t even know? Perhaps it is an idea, a concept or a thought. You are trying to create the perfect person that will understand you, tame you and love you just like how you would. You do not seek for reciprocated love - you always feel like you want to give more and love more. It is your way of loving and who is to complain? However, a part of you aches knowing that someday when the time comes and you lay down onto a field taking your final breaths, you probably would have wanted someone to just whisper on how much they adore you, just like how ā€˜night breezes seem to whisper ā€˜I love you.’’. Gentleness but also full with affection. Somebody who can withstand you during your energetic moments and your burnt out times. Someone who will stay next to you no wonder what; someone who is not afraid to present their emotions for you and only you. Someone who will try everything just to love you, get back to you no matter what. And I promise, from the deepest roots of my heart, that I will dearly love them where every moment would feel like the first time - the rushed heartbeats, flowing hormones, aching hearts and locked eyes. We will love the way that we do - and it may be similar to others - but in the end, we know that what we have is different and special for ourselves. Beethoven’s ā€˜Fur Elise’. The strong faith in love that was driven between Schumann, Brahms and Clara. Like how one composes songs dedicated for another and one paints in shades of pastels reminiscing of their significant other. Like the love letters written in ink that took quite a while to pick out at the store, wrapped in delicate enveloped covered with kiss marks. Like the singing and humming dedicated for the ears of the other. It is what you want, and therefore you wait - for who knows how long, expecting that person, who will achieve accomplishment throughout a journey together with you. ——————— Hello! This is my first entry hereeee:) The picture was carefully brought here from pinterest and was in my album, I do not know any individual in the photo but they gave me great inspiration on writing this piece. The photo really speaks warmth and radiates energy IMO - so romantic!
Jan 28, 2025
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For someone who claims to identify so closely with solitude, uncovering just how tethered I was to the emotions of people I love was a crispy realization. Of course, that attachment is the basis for any kind of relationship. You cannot claim to ā€œhave someoneā€ in your life if you do not feel some kind of emotional connection towards them. The stronger the connection, the stronger the relationship. We all know this. However, there is something to be said about a relationship that is ā€œtoo goodā€; a bond so strong due to its shocking lack of tension. In hindsight of various broken and fragmented connections I’ve been apart of, any relationship that exists while remaining entirely unscathed now kind of terrifies me. I believe there can be such a thing as ā€œtoo much loveā€, and I think those who have given or received it know when they have done so. It’s a mistake anyone is capable of making. Imagine a relationship so polished, free from any erosion (visible or otherwise); seemingly perfect. This type of connection can only be established through a building of trust and an abundance of time. However, I’ve come to learn that the more impeccable bonds tend to break easy when faced with their first real blow. Birds only crash into the cleanest of glass. *"If music be the food of love, play on; / Give me excess of it...*" I don’t want excess. For the food of love, I am no glutton. I eat until I am full and push my plate aside. I used to love like my life depended on it. I put those people whom I adored on the highest of pedestals, framed them in my gallery and admired new details every time we shared a visit. Maybe I just hadn’t been wronged enough to ever think that I could be wounded by those I dote on so heavily. What is it with loving and being loved that makes feeling hurt seem so impossible? Why must love shatter all preconceived expectations of what emotion is? Is love really so massive, so gargantuan that it conquers all other feeling? Yes, and no. At least that’s what I think. This is all just what I think. I don’t want to come across as some great romantic or lovesick puppy or old friend. I’m just trying to figure out the right way to love, like everyone else.
Mar 16, 2025

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I've been told that people in the army do more by 7:00 AM than I do in an entire day, but if I wake at 6:59 AM and turn to you to trace the outline of your lips with mine, I will have done enough and killed no one in the process. - 6:59 AM by Shane Koyczan we take love for granted, and i do more than anyone. i find it so beautiful that there is one pair of flesh and bones and eyes and a mouth that truly do belong at the top of the hierarchy. she is perfection and love in itself, and i remind myself that to be stagnant to unproductive may never be my fate if my day is long spent loving her.
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Feb 13, 2025
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i forgot my headphones at home. i was about to either 1) pump black country new road 2) watch brooklyn 99. i miss being passionate about things, not being able to sleep, eat, speak, or fathom anything beyond the apple of my eye and the fruit of my thoughts. i miss waking up with one thing in mind, how i would explore it that day, and how i would explore it the next it’s been people it’s been sewing guitar driving religion philosophy photography writing filming blogging i think, regardless of any tik tok data explosion with the intention of ripping out each of my brain cells to keep me submissive and docile because of a wrecked attention span, i’m not a girl of her commitments- i get bored. and i am bored. i feel this lack of passion so deeply in my body, its been a catalyst for the recent crashouts ive had ( and there’s been plenty) i don’t know how to stay, and work hard, and allow myself to grow to what i want to be right in this instance. not to shine my own shoes, but i’m not super used to being bad at things. i’ve always always always coasted, and now that im trying to be a gaf (give a fuck) filled girl, ive realized, sucking at something hurts a lot more when you’ve put in the work to be good at it. if it wasn’t me writing this, and my best friend called me and told me this word for word, i would tell her how normal that feeling was, and that she herself knew what to do; commit. and that is my advice, dear sweet amalia, commit, commit, commit.
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