psykaedelic

I remembered when I was younger, sometimes objects would suddenly seem very far away. The door or the bed or the table, would suddenly look a couple of metres further away from where they should be. Sometimes I get incomprehensible voices in my head together with it. I'll call my mom, she'll just say I'm tired. Maybe I was.

Was rushing out some design work last night, started hearing things in my head again. Things that weren't my inner voice/imagination, whatever was usually in there. Maybe I was tired.

And now I’m looking at you,” he said, “and you’re asking me if I still want you, as if I could stop loving you. As if I would want to give up the thing that makes me stronger than anything else ever has. I never dared give much of myself to anyone before, but since the first time I saw you, I have belonged to you completely.

— Cassandra Clare

Sometimes it’s the quiet seconds before dawn when everyone else is dreaming and you feel as if time has stopped momentarily. The moments that pass quietly and unnoticed are what you’ll remember most as you age and begin to collect memories like dead flowers pressed between the pages of a book.

There will be no fireworks or music swelling in the background. Love, as defined by every romance film in the past decade, is not going to occur; and that’s okay. I will wake you up and offer you something to eat. Breakfast will be ordinary. Despite what society says, what my father says, what the black and white printed definition in any dictionary says, in this fleeting, beautiful, simple, quiet moment, I know what I feel for you.

Thought Catalog

It feels amazing when you can stop wondering about how much he loves you, and start doing things to show you love him back. I don't think I 've loved this much, yet felt this safe before.

It has to be the best feeling in the world when you fall in love with someone when they’re in front of a wide-open space, like a skyline or vast ocean or a mossy green forest. When you’re on the beach their naked feet are sunken into the millions of grains of sand shifting through their toes. They’re just one grain of sand, and your whole world sits in the crook of their smile. The beauty that surrounds them gets tangled up in the salty wind of their hair and nothing else exists except for that moment and that frame of existence, a raw negative exposed positive. There are so many places to travel but your country and your language is spoken in the rhythm of their body against the sea waves.

It was the most complicated simplicity. You.

ThoughtCatalog

I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world.

I told you about how the feelings come in waves,

one minute it’s the clanging of ceramic, dishwater and day dreams, and then it’s wondering about how in a single night I can write handfuls of sloppy poems about the way you looked up against the brick with a cigarette pressed between your lips. How you swore you didn’t need a coat, side-stepping around songs I can hardly stomach. Your car keys hanging by the edge of the map, where my eyes have traced the road trip to alaska, to california, to galveston. How I start to think about the stars in texas, the way they pounded against us when we got close. I think about our roadtrip to florida, the passive skies of morning it makes me think about change.

It’s knowing that there are better words to be written, bluer songs to be sung, quieter corners of cities to be accidentally found, louder stars milking light in forgotten country sides where everyone else shotgunned through because the moon is nothing new.

Makes me think of all these words I’ve been so afraid to say, dancing around them in caution, always afraid my eagerness will break what we’ve been building. And it’s even harder when you’re gone, how the words are always brimming with their ulterior motives, always waiting for their call to arms and maybe it’s time to shake the rules, to break a few. Because I’m ready to cross state lines, feel stars pounding against us from grand canyon skies. I’m ready to find the moments that were tucked away waiting for us. How I’m fighting to be something stronger, something louder, something fearless and unashamed.

Knowing that it’s only shadows, light, rust and stardust separating us from being two parts of the same thing. And even then we are always fighting to dog-ear them, prove them that we are anyway.

Its always around this time of the night, when I miss you the most.