“I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot... believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible ... Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.
I know how it is—we all want to be mysterious. None of us want to get hurt. None of us want to look desperate. So we wait to respond to texts, phone calls, emails, Facebook messages, Tweets. So we communicate our emotions in how we end our messages (no period this time? Really gonna get them.). So we say vague, half-statements and expect people to read our minds.
But what if we died?
What if the last thing you ever texted that girl was, “I don’t know, whenever,” when she asked when she should come over, even though you really really wanted to see her right now? What if you were head-over-heels in lust with some beautiful human, but you chose to wait 15 seconds before texting them back, only to never get the chance to text them at all?
But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.
And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans."
— Rachel C. Lewis
This.. this right here, is how I try to live my life. Want to live my life. With passion, without regrets, without fear. It doesn't always work. Sometimes, Some days, fear gets the best of me. Especially once I fully understand the implications, the real life repercussions of diving in head first, putting on that brave face and embracing the beauty in another. Giving them the parts of me that are my most sacred, most breakable without a second thought. Until... that second thought. Far too late. Usually after I'm completely and unshakably in love. After I've let their roots grow deep under my skin, taking hold and wrapping themselves securely and permanently around my heart. Long after I am, unflinchingly theirs.
That, is when I second guess. When I get fearful. When I assess.
When I try to prove to myself that I can still be fine on my own. That I won't be wrecked, just in case.
But even then, I know that it's too late. And if there isn't a chance that they can leave me in ruins, then I never really let them in, then they never really meant that much to me... then I never really loved them.
Except that I did. And they do. Or I wouldn't have to try and prove the opposite.
I ask myself if I'll ever grow out of this... then I remember something my love wrote, about keeping the pain close, so we don't forget, so we don't take for granted, so we always appreciate and keep perspective, and I answer my own question.
So everyday becomes an inward battle to humble myself, put away my pride, my fears that I am not loved as much as I love. And instead to love that much harder. To hide nothing, to keep nothing from the ones I love.
To never hold back. To let my love for them just be.
That's why we feel isn't it?
What are hands for, if not for holding?
And lips un-kissed, or love unspoken?
Why else do we exist if not for this?
To love.
But what if we died?
What if the last thing you ever texted that girl was, “I don’t know, whenever,” when she asked when she should come over, even though you really really wanted to see her right now? What if you were head-over-heels in lust with some beautiful human, but you chose to wait 15 seconds before texting them back, only to never get the chance to text them at all?
But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.
And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans."
— Rachel C. Lewis
This.. this right here, is how I try to live my life. Want to live my life. With passion, without regrets, without fear. It doesn't always work. Sometimes, Some days, fear gets the best of me. Especially once I fully understand the implications, the real life repercussions of diving in head first, putting on that brave face and embracing the beauty in another. Giving them the parts of me that are my most sacred, most breakable without a second thought. Until... that second thought. Far too late. Usually after I'm completely and unshakably in love. After I've let their roots grow deep under my skin, taking hold and wrapping themselves securely and permanently around my heart. Long after I am, unflinchingly theirs.
That, is when I second guess. When I get fearful. When I assess.
When I try to prove to myself that I can still be fine on my own. That I won't be wrecked, just in case.
But even then, I know that it's too late. And if there isn't a chance that they can leave me in ruins, then I never really let them in, then they never really meant that much to me... then I never really loved them.
Except that I did. And they do. Or I wouldn't have to try and prove the opposite.
I ask myself if I'll ever grow out of this... then I remember something my love wrote, about keeping the pain close, so we don't forget, so we don't take for granted, so we always appreciate and keep perspective, and I answer my own question.
So everyday becomes an inward battle to humble myself, put away my pride, my fears that I am not loved as much as I love. And instead to love that much harder. To hide nothing, to keep nothing from the ones I love.
To never hold back. To let my love for them just be.
That's why we feel isn't it?
What are hands for, if not for holding?
And lips un-kissed, or love unspoken?
Why else do we exist if not for this?
To love.
