If I don’t write about you then I do not love you and I never did.
I’m a writer and its only in my nature to write down every thought that crosses my head about you. It’s the way we work.
Writing novels worth of unforgettable memories. Writing about the moment I met you and the way you looked. The moment in which I realized the looks I was giving you were different from the ones other people received. The realization made that this is what love must feel like because no other person had gotten these poems out of me. We were amazingly stitched together like a breathtaking sonnet. I will describe the way we made love that summer night with the moon as our only witness.
Upon heartbreak I’ll be pouring my soul on that paper. My pen and paper will stand for the shoulders I should cry on. Sipping on my drink of choice, whether its tea, coffee or tequila is to be determined. Words of hatred will be spilled only because of how much I want to despise you when truth was, I loved you.
Pen, paper, my words and drinks are the companions that I need. When speaking failed, writing begun.
So long as I have blood pumping through my veins, I will have something to write with. I breath emotions, caress the words and bleed out ink.
If I don’t write about you then I don’t love you and I never did.
2:00 pm |
December 7 2012
| 1 note
I’ve just been angry and annoyed or just uncaring towards things.
When my days are a mixture of all of the above it can get very overwhelming and confusing. But those have been my days in a nutshell.
I crave solitude but I also want attention.
I crave a conversation but I don’t want to deal with people.
I crave. I want. I need.
I crave, want and need someone to hold me down and play with my hair until I fall asleep.
I crave care.
I want care.
But it’s just me right now.
Even when I have my family and my friends.
It
is
just
me.
5:35 pm |
November 21 2012
| 2 notes
Apology.
What is an apology worth?
If its worth anything at all.
Does it truly mend things?
Does it make the aching bearable?
Will it makes things forgivable?
As the person who got hurt,
It doesn’t change a thing you did
or didn’t do
so please, save your breath.
From the side of a person who spilled those tears,
It doesn’t make me forget
so please, save your breath.
As the person who has hurt others,
Acknowledging I did such a thing doesn’t lessen what I put you through.
So I’ll save my breath.
Actually, admitting that I hurt you, hurts me more and I know that’s selfish.
So I’ll save my breath.
I can hear an “I’m sorry” and not be able to forgive because it doesn’t do anything aside of stinging the wound open.
Knowing that I, myself, am saying “I’m sorry” breaks me because I know it doesn’t change what I did. I am aware that I hurt you.
Saying I’m sorry is just a poor excuse for mistakes done.
Things that didn’t work out in one’s favor.
So honestly,
what is an apology worth?
If its worth anything at all.
12:42 am |
October 22 2012
| 1 note
This is me sharing one of my journal entries.
Dear Lola,
For the first time, after many years, I was finally able to enjoy the rain, even though I will probably get sick. It lead me to ask myself, why do the things we love the most hurt us? I don’t mean to sound dramatic here but that’s how it’s proven to be.
I miss a lot of things. Events that happened. People I’ve met. Lately, I’ve found myself missing them more than ever, even when I know that I’m probably better left off without them. Does that make me a masochist?
I’m a writer and a reader and for better or worse, that’s only increased my imagination. I know I have to focus on me, but on certain days, it’d just be nice to have someone to go to. Not just have sex with someone to reach an orgasm but because we haven’t felt anything better than the connection between us. I know I’m not the only person who feels this way, I can’t be.
I want to be at good standing with everything but my days just seem to pass me by. I know I need to change, but thing is, I get so overwhelmed that I don’t even know where to start.
I am dramatic, all those books have paid off.
See you soon.
Love Always,
Nathaly.
1:07 am |
September 23 2012
| 3 notes
I don’t ask for much.
I simply ask for a helping hand,
an uplifting smile,
a shoulder to cry on.
I ask for a companion
that will cherish all our moments together,
both good and bad.
My partner,
lover,
best friend.
To share a love so strong,
a love that will survive the wildest storms.
When you look into my eyes
I want you to envision eternity with me.
I don’t ask for much.
I simply ask for you to love me
as unconditionally
as I will love you
You will be
my sun,
my moon,
my ever shining star.
But maybe,
just maybe,
that is quite a lot.
11:49 pm |
August 19 2012
| 2 notes
I don’t let you go,
not because I love you,
not because I miss you.
It isn’t because I’ve held onto the memories,
it no longer is because I want you.
I don’t let you go,
the reason is simple, really,
you break me,
and then you put me back together,
just to break me again.
I’m quite aware it doesn’t make much sense,
and it is quite a bit masochistic of me,
but as much as everyone wants a happy ending,
everyone adores a sad story,
because we can relate.
That’s what you are to me,
my sad story,
my heartbreaking tale.
And
these emotions,
have been
the scars
you left behind.
1:23 pm |
July 30 2012
| 2 notes
Don’t make me any promises,
because they easily become empty words.
Don’t talk to me about forever,
because that’s an awfully long time away.
Instead,
Act upon all the words you whisper to me at night.
I’m not asking for forever,
I want to enjoy you right now.
So love me right now,
at this very moment
because
promises are words that the wind blows away
because
forever
is still an awfully long time away.
12:28 pm |
May 30 2012
| 57 notes
If I must be completely honest
then I would say,
sometimes I feel like a stranger
to myself.
A prisoner of my mind,
captured and tortured by
my thoughts.
If I must be completely honest,
then I would admit
that I find myself as a puppy,
running around in circles,
chasing my own tail unable to reach it.
There are no cries of help because
I would not know where to start.
I do not know what to seek for first.
Therefore, I’ve just learned to accustom to it.
If I must be completely honest,
then I would acknowledge the fact that in this body there is an eternal fight between me and her.
There is a battle between the girl I knew, the person that I am and the woman I want to be.
But if I were to be really honest,
then I would say
that I have no idea what to say,
or do.
I would admit that I’ve just been taking it day by day.
I would acknowledge the fact that I’m leading a pathetic life.
And if I were to ask myself any question,
It would be the same one:
What are you going to do to change that?
1:28 am |
May 15 2012
| 2 notes
