aylohalo

[aylohalo]

im so sick of being the second option 

[aylohalo]

Ludwik Stasiak - Dandelions (ca. 1900)

[aylohalo]

“Sometimes I forget that we are just friends.”

— I wish we could be more

[aylohalo]

i know i hurt you. but my god you hurt me too.

4am

[aylohalo]

“With the right music, you either forget everything or you remember everything.”

— Unknown

[aylohalo]

Vampires are cursed to live an eternity with severe vitamin D deficit and without the joy of eating garlic.

[aylohalo]

“When you’re finally able to say “yes, I still miss him but I don’t want him to come back”, that’s how you know you’re healing. Even if it still hurts sometimes.”

— Unknown

[aylohalo]

These fantasies of us just being friends and doing mundane shit together with romantic undertones need to stop.

#teacher crush community #teacher crush #male teacher crush #male tc #It makes it worse because I might be working there soon

[aylohalo]

Thousands of raindrops at night are relaxing and help sleep. But a single drop constantly in the sink at night can drive people crazy and keep them from sleeping

[aylohalo]

“He heard you. Just be patient.”

— Islamic Thinking

[aylohalo]

“What is it about you

that everytime I see you

I can’t breathe?”

– We can never be friends // 22:11

[aylohalo]

Somewhere between hopeless romantic and horny.

— we’ve all been there.

[aylohalo]

You promised you wouldn’t leave...then you left.

[aylohalo]

Maybe overanalyzing it a bit, don't you think that the reason why Juliet killed herself was because she didn't want to be controlled by her dad and/or stuck in a marriage without love with a guy she didn't even know? I mean, maybe the girl knew that, without Romeo, she was unprotected (because women didn't have voice or vote back then) and, therefore, death was a better option than an unhappy life.

[aylohalo]

It's hard to be an asexual in a world where sex is one of the most important things.

[aylohalo]

“I should have hugged you harder the last time I saw you.”

— A.Y. 

[aylohalo]

[click on the pic for HD]

07-Jan-2017, 0643

Mosul, Iraq

It’s been more than a year since I wrote to you last. For a long time I wondered if it was doing more bad than good, if writing to you was just a way for me to keep you with me. So I stopped. I buried myself in booze and women, tried to self-destruct with too much work and not enough sleep, and you know what?

You’re still here. You’re still in every silence, in every laugh and in every tear, and I don’t know if it’ll ever go away. So I’m here again. Because writing to you still feels like coming back to a home I can never go back to.

Time is not the great healer people make you believe it is. Every morning I wake up to find pieces of you in a life we don’t share anymore; every day I’m still pulling pieces of you from my skin.

I have tried to get rid of your memory, mostly by self-destructing. But you’ve always been able to find me even when my heart begs you not to. In the end, I don’t think anything will ever manage to get you out of my mind. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to properly let you go, or even if I’ll have any say about it.

I have done everything I can to forget you, but it’s all just a quiet form of drowning. There is no material capable of washing your fingerprints from my skin.

I can still hear you telling me that I was impossible to love. That my heart was a caged animal, too scared to let anything close enough to touch it. I knew what you went through trying to hold the pieces of me together, so I told you that it was okay. That not everything is meant to be loved.

I also told you that maybe this wasn’t meant to be. I didn’t mean a single word of that phrase. I think it was always you, from the second breath graced my lungs. I guess the journey from that moment to you was just harder than it should have been. It took more from me than I knew how to give.

I think all of this started as a way to say the things I wasn’t able to, as a way to get you out of me. In the beginning, I think it would be fair to say that writing was a form of therapy. Maybe it still is.

Live this way long enough and, eventually, the heartbreak begins to feel comforting, like an old friend. If I’m honest, I can’t help thinking it’s the only thing I can rely on not to leave. It’s the closest thing I have to home.

Thunder rolls and I hear the collapse of cities. The ground vibrates and I feel an earthquake. I might be dead tomorrow, and that’s alright. I’ve always had a tendency to fear the worst. To worry about things too awful to speak out loud. Now that I’ve lived through wars and battlefields, what I fear is not being able to see your eyes again. To die without ever hearing the sound of your laugh, or the press of your lips.

I guess this is how the past grips the present. These are the echoes I can’t seem to shake.

But I am trying. Trying to remind myself that love and loss are not always the same thing. That anything deep is more than just a risk of drowning.

7 years is a long time. I hope you’re doing good. I hope you found someone who’s worth it. I hope you’re clean, healthy, happy.

I still love you. I don’t know if it’ll ever stop.

Miss you, Cas.

— Dean

Chapter 10 of Patient Love is now up!

Keep reading