aseaofquotes:

Alan Lightman, Reunion

-boyhoodbravery:

thedailywhat:

Language Of Love of the Day: Multi-lingual strangers on the streets of London are asked to say “I love you” in their native tongue.

[thd.]

I loved this.

Oh man, humans are so fucking beautiful.

aseaofquotes:

Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

Feeling a bit better, I think. I started focusing on my little post-Valentine’s Day gifts for K and it is nice to be even slightly creative, and have small tangible results of my own hard work. I’m missing glue and ribbon though, and will need to stop at the store after work. I don’t know when he’s picking me up for dinner, though, so I’ll probably have to rush. That’s fine though, I know that whatever happens tomorrow I will have the widest grin on my face. It’s so rare to be able to see him during the week, I always feel so immensely grateful that he takes time to drive here and see me. Plus, we are very much an introverted, stay-in type of couple; we get takeout or cook and lie in bed and watch movies and cuddle, or quietly sit in his room while one of us plays Skyrim and the other browses online. I could count all the sit-down dates we’ve had on one hand, two if you count going to movies. I absolutely love the way we are and the way we spend our weekends but the change of pace is going to be lovely.

I made him a little card with a coyote and a fox snuggling together on the front, and it quotes the Fox and the Hound: “Look at that! A fox and a hound—”, and continues on the inside, “—playing together!”, with little drawing of Vixey underneath, and a small note from me. Our main petnames for each other are “Little Fox” and “Puppy” (from a discussion during our early days about spirit animals- they say an animal you meet and hold extended eye contact with is yours. His was a coyote, mine a fox. When he told me, I took a marker and scribbled ‘Coyote’ on his arm, and he wrote ‘Foxy’ on mine. And so it stuck. He eventually became ‘puppy’ from a favorite  book we have in common, American Gods.) so I often draw him little pictures of Tod and leave them in his pockets. It’s one of those things that I’m sure is sickeningly cutesy to someone outside of the relationship, but I absolutely love it.

Then I took one of the many old prescription bottles I’ve been hoarding for years (I thought I could use them in a little art project! And I DID!) and made a new prescription label for it with his name on it, a dosage of ‘all the time, every day, forever’, and side effect of warm fuzzies, smiles, butterflies, racing heart, etc. And I made little pill versions of candy hearts, with cute phrases and hearts and xoxo’s and ‘dork’ and stuff written on them. I’ll probably fill it with Altoids so it has that nice rattle. Or maybe Pez or something.

Then I took an Altoid case (I know, I know, what’s up with the Altoids. I have a huge collection of their cases too. Back before we were dating he used to bring me the little tins because I was trying to quit smoking and would obsessively suck on peppermints. Now they’re a little symbol of us, I guess) and made little love coupons in the shape of giant peppermints, backrubs and kisses and snacks and all that. 

I think it’s pretty cute, and I hope he likes it. He didn’t want me to spend any money, and I decided to actually abide by that, unlike Christas (boy was he mad at me over Christmas. He kept squeezing me and growling. I know he loved his gifts, he just frets over me spending money because he thinks I’m going to get horribly sick and need the cash. What a worrier.)

Now I’m going to work on my cards for allmouth because she’s my best friend and equally-adored Valentine, and I can’t let everyone else who has been sending her stuff steal her away from me!

I think what saves me when most when I’m feeling as awful about myself as I was earlier, is the fact that I have two people in my life that think of me as absolutely beautiful and lovely and important to them, and that’s all I really need in the end. Their opinions are worth more to me than the other 7 billion people on earth combined— if they think I’m worthwhile company, then I am satisfied, lucky, content.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

“you sleep in a foreign language most nights now, but the constellations still collide in the same shapes for both of us. they are still slung arrows and roaring mouths. pull them apart with your fingers and teeth, and i will cup my hands and collect them for you as you drop them out of the sky. solar shine on midnight shrines on the beds we made from darkened pine. on forest floors we wrestled love to its knees. living on flesh and wine. chemicals seethe and writhe. my heart bursts and blooms, unfolding messily from my chest and dripping with wishes. we shared our dreams and they ran through us like wildfire. do the gods chant outside your window in your room buried in such deep south? do they wet your face with war paint as you sleep? whisper in your ear in wicked tongues? and you start awake, clutching at your own skin and instead feeling not your own pulse but mine. drowsing so many mountain ranges and riverbeds away. when you step outside, strange bright birds sing out in wonder. the sun burns like a coin in the back pocket of your mind. the stars i hold smolder in my hands, burn holes, and one morning you wake up with a dozen tiny freckles smoking on your palms.”

The thing about life that dissatisfies me that most is that the human brain comprehends time in a singularly linear way. I mean really, it’s completely unfair that when I meet a person I can only know them from that point onward. It should be possible that when you have intimate knowledge of the molecular alignment of a person, their entire timeline unfolds before you. I want to know every way the people I love have ever been. Loving a fellow human being is simultaneously mourning every second of them lost to you by the rigid forward-moving construct of the human experience. Maybe I’ll take up meditation in an attempt to collapse the part of my brain keeping me from that. If Heaven were a thing, I’d like to imagine it as total immersion into the honest being of those you love and adore most. A humming buzzing essence.

and get hot and shaky when I look at pictures of Justin Pierre sometimes, and my heart does this bass drum thud, and it’s the most bizarrely uncomfortable and wonderful feeling. I don’t know what it is about him that affects the chemicals in my head that way no matter how much I try to feel otherwise. Seeing him just sorta circumvents my rational thought and the part of me that is like, “don’t be a stupid little girl fawning over some boy who might as well be fictional, he’s so distant from your life”, and just kickstarts some physical reaction in me. It sounds ridiculous, but it feels like the most genuine representation of love I’ve ever felt, the strange, perfect mixture of chemicals to produce to most heated, true feelings of affection in me.

I try to talk myself outta this in my head all the time because it must seem insane and fanatical but he’s just this human boy who lives on the same planet I do in the same time I do that makes me feel, fully, wholly, and deeply, right in the roots of me, and I am incredibly grateful for that. That I, a dumb, foolish, flighty little girl gets to feel the way I do sometimes, even if it will never be actualized.

motioncitysoundtrack:

Today’s question, “What do we do with this song?!?”

 Every time they post a new photo or mention working on the new record I have somewhat of a seizure that involves a lot of flailing, moaning, peeing, etc…

I WILL LITERALLY BE MAKING OUT WITH THIS ALBUM ONCE IT’S IN MY HANDS. For now I’ll settle for licking the computer screen, I suppose.

Justin’s tummy ohmygod

(Source: motioncitysoundtrack)

The small lies we tell ourselves and each other to get through the day. The concessions and compromises.

Will I ever be done with counting days off on my fingers? With feeling the seconds tapping impatiently against the walls of my veins? I wake up on my best friend’s floor gasping and scratching at my arms, desperate clawing and pinpricks of blood and dirty feathers. Bones snapping and healing, the wild metal sting and fury of bleeding. All mirrors become cursed things, become single-use cemeteries with a grave just for me. And the faces of those you love most twist and snap their jaws at you, snarling and spitting.

How can you fight the quiet, sad-making moments of each day? Like when you and your best friend try to find a song to listen to together and realize that there is nothing binding you together anymore except the past; the frantic clinging in classes filled people you hate, lunchroom nervousness. Like when you finally rally your nerves to speak up only to immediately get shut down. Like when the countdown hits one and you think: “how you spend your new year’s eve is how you spend the rest of the year”, and know that those your heart belongs to are so far, so many statelines or timezones away, and maybe they don’t call and you’re too afraid to call them. The fact that you’re ever afraid of those you love. 

The sunshine state, the great lakes, the city where Poe died, the translatlanticism, the neon lights, the endless traintracks, dog ears and tea leaves.

flurries:

patternsandtraffic:

elektricfeel:

lizzikat | mademoiselleveronika | helloblaire | itches | revolutions | precocious | trapeze | treos | allnightlong | greenumbrellatrees

-Patrick Stump

 patrick, you will always & forever be my first true love.

envypersonified:

galaxyeater:

…WHY?

LOOK AT ME UP IN THE SKY

WATCH THE WORLD JUST PASS ME BY

THAT SIP OF MILK WAS SO POORLY TIMED ON MY PART

MAJOR SPITTAKE

THOSE LYRICS

WITH THIS PHOTO

I’M CRYING AND SCREAMING AND COVERED IN MILK