nebulatune
dream
strewn thoughts trying to make sense visit for more: https://milomi.home.blog/@the.darker.stars on IG too
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Drunken Love Confessions
"I like your stupid face. It’s so stupid. It’s so… I like it. Can I touch it?"
"You're all I ever wanted. I'm sorry I can't say it sober."
"I can't wait for the room to stop spinning, so I can focus on your face again."
"I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back."
"You're cute. And a bit blurry. But definitely always so cute."
"I think I love you." "And I would love to answer you accordingly, but I think I would appreciate it more when you’re actually able to understand my answer."
"Don't tell my sober me that I told you I love you. It was a secret."
"I…I want to give you my heart. It belongs to… to you. How… how can I give it to you? I don’t want it anymore." "Let’s wait until tomorrow with the surgery."
"Oh I'm dreaming of you again. If I wouldn't be dreaming and if you would be really here, then I would tell you I love you."
"I love you. But that's a secret. So I won't tell you about it."
"You're drunk." "Yes. And hopelessly in love with you."
"I'm seeing you twice. Oh, now I can give all my love to even more of you."
"Say that again after two coffees at least and I will be yours."
"You're so adorable. I want to pick you up and never let you down."
"I've always loved you. But I will never tell you."
"This is not a dream, I think. In my dreams we're usually kissing."
"I’m not drunk. Can a drunk person do this?" "You’re not doing anything." "But… I sent you my love. Did you… did you not get it?"
"Can you keep a secret? I am madly in love with you. But psshh."
"I fell in love with you." "No, you fell down the stairs. You should really learn to hold your liquor."
"You're so perfect. How can anyone be so perfect? Maybe you're just a dream."
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let’s dance under the stars. let’s sing till the moon joins us. let’s laugh till we’re drunk with the wine of life, envied by the Romantics.
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i can't stop thinking about you. and i don't like that.
if you asked me in january 2022, i really wouldn't know much about you. you would be just another person whom i vaguely remember talking to or waving at.
just a month later, things would change. i would meet you, spend three hours in awkwardness because our parents are friends, and wonder if that makes us friends.
in the next few months, i'd probably talk to you more. i was friends with your friends and then you'd also become someone i was teased with. i called you to my birthday (after contemplating a lot)- and you were traveling, so i was relieved i wouldn't have to relive awkward tension again.
and somehow, it was all fine till then.
it was also fine when you came over because our parents are friends, and we talked for an hour in my room, sitting on the floor. spending time in awkward tension is probably trending, i think. i guess we're friends.
but it all started when you replied to my story- when you said you loved the show i loved.
when i discovered you love bad jokes, sitcoms, and good movies. when it suddenly became completely okay for me to send you a video at midnight and for you to do the same.
every time you caught my eye to say something funny, every time we burst into laughter, every time you high-fived me- i didn't want to believe what was happening. when i'm invited to your surprise party, i guess we're friends. and when i invite you (after contemplating a lot) to my new year's party, i guess we're friends.
but when you branch off into something philosophical to comfort me and somehow read my thoughts, i wonder if we're friends. when you smoothly catch my references in a noisy room, i wonder if we're friends. when you continue texting me at 3am, listening to me gush about someone hot- making me blush when i'm supposed to be to sleeping, i wonder if we're friends.
you probably think we are. and that's probably true. but i can't stop thinking about this. and i don't like it.
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If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time.
-Marcel Proust
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“Because a song can take you back instantly to a moment, or a place, or even a person. No matter what else has changed in you or the world, that one song stays the same, just like that moment. Which is pretty amazing, when you actually think about it.”
— Sarah Dessen
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what if i was on that plane?
to escape this world and explore others
to feel free once in a while.
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it feels good
when the wind blows through your hair
when the leaves rustle as you pass by
when a walking dog licks your hand
when you are finally getting back into that train track
that you veered off of months ago
in search of something better.
but you realise the tracks are better,
they take you someplace- for sure.
you don’t know where you’ll end up walking in fields and grasses with the sun tickling your body. you’d like to know.
but you don’t have the freedom to explore. so you return. and find forced joy.
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“Yesterday, you said tomorrow.”
Nike
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words swimming in front of my eyes. incomprehensible, not making sense. but
i'm running out of dictionaries, someone help-
i'm silenced. i'm searching for meaning,
i'm searching for explanation,
but clarity is buried deep- too unclear for me to find.
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gush over literature and grin into the night. hold foam in your hand and blow it all about. make peace signs and spray graffiti all over your life.
go on roller coasters and laugh till you cry. live life to the fullest. be alive.
be goofy. make funny faces and make lame jokes and make stupid mistakes because this is your chance to be crazy and not be judged for being crazy and being yourself.
you don’t need to apologise for yourself because you are appreciated and your presence is greeted like a lover greeting a rose with blushes, flushes and smiles.
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“what do you dream of?”
“i dream of you.
i dream of your shining eyes, the way the twinkle when you see me, the way they dance across my face searching myself for thoughts and clinging to inklings of passion.
i dream of your fingers, the way they move so quickly, tracing theorems across my-
i dream of your voice, soft and coarse and ending too quickly all at once, sending shivers through me.
i dream of your dreams, of the places you’ve painted with your words, the worlds you draw across me, more vivid than ever.
sometimes my dreams make me alive, make me breathless, make me long for you, make me ache for you, make me want you-”
“have me.”
(i might adapt this into a fanfic if i ever write one. credit to casey mcquinston - red, white & royal blue for the ‘i want you, then have me’ line)
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‘it’s only one step forward and three steps back’
where does this take us
where are we now
are we still on that chessboard, fighting hatred and love
or are we miles behind the finish line
or have we stumbled and just fallen down?
where does this take us
is love still a word we cherish
and hold close to our hearts?
or has it lost all meaning
just like we’ve lost all life that could have once held us together?
would you still burn for me?
would you forget you ever loved me
and still find your way to me
like a magnet that aches for its other?
am i your north star? or does your star point someplace else you’d rather be?
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There are some books that carve out your heart, bloodied and all: clutch it till it breaks you and you break down, till your tears rain down from your eyes, blurring your life, pouring into an ocean- and the last page pushing your heart back into your empty socket of a stomach with hands smeared with blood. You don't know how to stitch yourself, heal yourself, mend your broken self, so you live with the scar. You live with the vivid memory of ink staining your soul and tears adorning your pages.
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"Empty your cup so that it may be filled; become devoid to gain totality."
-Bruce Lee
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I Do
A small wave to her
As a smile adorns her beautiful face
Like a light tune the pianist begins with,
That sparks a charm.
You tell yourself,
This. This is
How it all starts.
You have a conversation
Trying to hide your blush
Soon serenading her with bits
Of guitar, and your broken voice.
Soft chords are struck, pedals are pressed,
The conductor smiles and the violins begin
Telling the story of your love.
Late night parties
Ending with the drummer’s solo,
As the drums dance to a DJ far away.
Confessions of your love
Under the covers
Whispering secrets in the silence of the night.
Yet wondering why your hearts
Sing a deep song of trumpets and
Fluttering butterflies.
Slowly rising to a crescendo.
You kneel down
Sheet music has no meaning now
For even drums far away
Cymbal to a stop to listen to her.
Her eyes glisten, yours twinkle
She says yes.
The world is singing a love song
And the conductor wipes tears with his sleeve
As harmonies overcome hearts.
Canon in D, Wedding March,
Soft melodies spreading hope.
The pianist still playing a gentle song
Of love.
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Books help me escape.
I find friends
Dragons
Witches
Heck anything and everything
I find utopias
And places I’d like to be.
Chapter after chapter
Turning pages to see
To feel.
The book ends and I sigh
Reality comes roaring back. I know it always will.
But it was worth it.
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