You know how people say to live every day like it was your last? it’s always been rather odd to me, and i think i finally figured out why.
Of course, they mean to seize the moment, to do what you want to, and to not regret anything that makes you happy. but isn’t there a quiet melancholy in thinking of every moment as the last one? the last time i can feel the sun warming up my face. the last time i will smell the freshly made coffee wherever i feel at home. the last time licking peanut butter from my finger, or learning about something new, or listening to that really good song that makes me feel so light inside. the last time running with my fingers through my girlfriend’s hair or kissing her temple. the last time to say someone that i love them. how wonderful is it in all of these moments to know that they will come again? that it’s only one time from many times. there’s no pressure to take every single detail in or to live after all your big dreams at once because the good things will happen again. rather than be afraid that everything could be over soon, i take a lot of ease from the thought that nothing has to be the last time.
I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but i think it’s really beautiful to know that there’s a whole life of good moments laying ahead of me.
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Humidity in the air, July morning.
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Sometimes, I’d touch myself
Only to feel close to you
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—H.G. Wells, The Time Machine
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Man muss nicht gleich sein, um sich zu lieben. Aber mutig.
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Vielleicht bereust du mich
Genauso wie ich dich
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