I Love Him, More Than He Knows. I’m Waiting For Him To Come Back From The Farmers Market With Flour

I cup my hands around all the sweet things in the world to try and taste some form of optimism, some form of “it’ll be okay”. I’ve been feeling low and bogged down by all the hatred in the news. These days it feels like all the sweetness falls right between my fingertips, like sand. The world is such an overwhelming, cruel place that it’s awfully hard to remember the good things. The love, laughter and tiny mementos of goodness in everyday life fades under the screech of death, hate and pain. please hug your lover tighter today. please call your mother and believe her when she says it’ll all be alright. please remember that beautiful things still exist, even when the world is anything but.

you laugh and holy hell, I can’t stop staring. the way you throw your head back, teeth flashing like small breaks of sunshine through leaves. it makes me feel as if I’m witnessing something holy. your neck tilted like Michaelangelo’s David as you laugh and laugh and laugh, the happiness spilling out from the deepest part of you. my breath caught in my throat, stunned. you looked beautiful. god, so beautiful. blonde hair, green eyes, blushing cheeks. the poet in me smiled softly, knowing she’d found a new muse, knowing she’d happily let you destroy her. perhaps this is how Icarus felt, flying too close to the sun, knowing he’d burn and happily accepting his fate in exchange for a couple of fleeting moments near god.

kissing you and laughing with you and holding you reminds me that happiness is possible, that happiness is here and that it is here to stay. how wonderful it is to come home to you. how wonderful it is to call you mine, my love. every cell, every inch, every curve of you calls me like the sea. I’ll happily drown in all that you are. happily burn in the sunlight in your eyes. I’m obsessed with all that you are. the chocolate chip cookie grin, the curve of your Adam’s apple, the scent of your skin.

so this is what lovers mean when they say they fall in love with their person more and more everyday. this is what falling feels like.

You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I’m sorry you deal with so much pain. I love you, and I’m always here for you.

“but what if i’m faking it?”

traumatic memories, especially traumatic memories from when you were a child, are notoriously difficult to access in their entirety. there are a lot of reasons for this- dissociation, injury, and memory deteriorating over time to name a few- and this can present a challenging question to survivors: how do i know i’m not lying?

people who are faking trauma or mental illness in general know they’re faking it. if you didn’t wake up one day and plan out what a fake traumatic memory you were going to have, and all the triggers you wanted to have, then you’re not faking. 

processing trauma memories is difficult and frightening and confusing, but you are not a liar or a faker.

it’s getting colder and I miss watching the condensation of your breath form and disappear in the air. the iciness of your blue eyes, the chill in your stare. winter boy, you said you never loved me. winter boy, I have so many questions: was it all real? why can’t you look me in the eye any more? how did you forget me that easily? 

winter boy, how did our love get so cold?

“In a shaky voice, he said: bring me back to you, or bring me back to myself. don’t leave me standing in between.”

isnt he so hot people say and im like who and people say this guy and im like who and people keep saying oh this guy he kinda looks a little weird but hes so attractive and im like who well he played this character from this movie and hes so attractive and im like okay can i see a picture and the guy always looks like this