trueloveisneverquestioned143

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.

Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones  (via wordsnquotes)

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

I love him because he isn’t scared of period talks. I love him because he respects my silence. I love him because we can talk for hours and he won’t spend half the time trying to get into my pants. Or rather, he kisses me halfway and waits, and waits, and waits. I love him because he knows I need coaxing to reveal my secrets, because he never gets mad when I tell him I can’t, because the only thing he wants to change about me is my self confidence, because he understands, and even when he doesn’t, he tries. I love him because I didn’t know a person who owed you nothing could care so much, who would stay up all night just to listen to you cry, who would run three miles in the dark to kiss your eyelids even though he hates the streets at night. I love him because he never forces me into anything. Everything I choose to do, I do in my own time. I love him because the first time I complained about cramps he kissed my forehead. He’s never made a period joke in his life.

S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #231 // I wrote this about you (via blossomfully)

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

You could see it in her eyes, you know? She loved him, more than she ever loved herself.“ “And as beautiful and selfless as that may be, she ended up breaking her own heart because of it.” “So love people, baby girl, love them with all that you’ve got. But never forget how to love yourself in the pursuit of loving someone else.

excerpt from a book i’ll never write #99 // a little reminder about self love (via a-laa-mode)

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

Intimacy is not who you let touch you. Intimacy is who you text at 3am about your dreams and fears. Intimacy is giving someone your attention, when ten other people are asking for it. Intimacy is the person always in the back of your mind, no matter how distracted you are.

(via sadgurl95)

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mothers name just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8. See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mothers joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind. Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel.Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin? Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea? And if you don’t believe in miracles, tell me, how would you explain the miracle of my life to me? And for all the times you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself, have the prayers you’ve asked come true? And if they didn’t did you feel denied? And if you felt denied, denied by who[m]? I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good. I wanna know what you see in the mirror on a day a day you’re feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass. If you ever reach enlightenment, will you remember how to laugh? Have you ever been a song? See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving. And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds. And if you dream sometimes that this life is just a balloon that if you wanted to you could pop—but you never would because you’d never want it to stop.

Andrea Gibson (via interceptings)

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

[trueloveisneverquestioned143]

I’ve lost friendships, relationships, and so much time.