white delenda.
f. 22. i find wonder in the familiar.
De*len"da\, n. pl. [L., fr. delere to destroy.] Things to be erased or blotted out.
"Nostalgia is a
dirty liar
that insists things
were better
than they seemed."
by Michelle K., I Can’t Stop Questioning It. (via bl-ossomed)

(via nobodysfuckingbusiness)

amo-amavi:

somniatis-oceanum:

Squibnocket Beach (by AlisonGamm)
How Heartbreak Ends

In the beginning, we rationalize. We barter. We think. We overanalyze. We fantasize. Criticize. Hate. Cry. And repeat.

We are afraid to sleep, afraid to eat, afraid to think. Nothing makes sense anymore. We have lost ourselves. We become walking zombies. For the few, a little more than that. But nevertheless, it never fails to remind us what we lost late at night.

We all think that we are the exception to the rule. We never actually believe that we are the rule. That no matter how many times people tell us they aren’t coming back, we beg to differ. We plan for that day when they will come back. When they realize what they lost. And how happy we will be. Life will be happily ever after. What used to be ours, will be again. But for now, we suffer. We binge on sleeping pills. We eat too much cake. Seclude ourself in the divine diversion of alcohol. We are glad to celebrate our pity party of one.

And then a few weeks go by. Nothing has changed. Perhaps for some of you a breadcrumb or two. But nothing really to keep us fed, our hearts remain hungry. We beg for more. Call. Text. Email. Stalk. Drive by. And once we are hooked on trying to make them reply, we don’t know how to stop. We become anxious, bitter, upset, moody, distressed. Why are they being like this?!

Then after we calm down, we make ourselves a promise to never do that again. Because, we say to ourselves, you made yourself look like a fool. You weren’t thinking. You apologize. You back down. You become a little more weak. You become inferior. Frightened of your own will power.
Then silence plays the lead role.

Then a few more days go by and your body begins to welcome the pain. Lately, it’s all its known. You wake up. Get ready. Go to work. Smile. Clock out. Drive home in traffic. Take a shower. Sit in your bed. And you think.

You ask yourself where it all went wrong. Was it you? Was it them? Did you argue too much? Did you push them away? Was it the new haircut? Or maybe that you stopped going to the gym? Was it that new coworker? Your mind spins in circles looking for answers. Unfortunately, you won’t find out until later that even if you found your answer, it never satisfies.

The days get deeper into the year. You look back in the dark hole you’re slowly climbing out of and you really have to count how long it’s been. You’re shocked. Beaten. Bruised. Betrayed. Worn. You really thought they would wake up one day and come back. But they didn’t. Everyone was right.

And for the first time, reality settles in. You pick your head up and you ask yourself, “Is this what I want to be like for the rest of my life?” You know the answer. Time had to show you.

Sadly to say, this is only the beginning of it all. Just when you thought you were forgetting, moving on, being happy, laughing again…heartbreak has a funny, and inconvenient, way of showing you that it isn’t through with you.

Out of nowhere, that moment comes that takes you for a spin, that makes you lose your balance and catches you off guard: memories, how they hold your hand when people let go. Your heart will fall deep into the pit of your stomach and your eyes will welt as you remember the time when they said I love you for the first time, or the first time they made you breakfast and the bacon was little burnt, but you loved it anyway. How being held by them made you tingly inside. Or the time you both sang out loud in the car to “Simple Man,” laughing and teasing each other about your godawful voices.

But those moments will become less and less. They won’t visit much after awhile. You will soon forget the way they liked their eggs cooked. The way their laundry detergent smelled up the whole apartment. Or how the scent of their cologne always followed you home. You’ll forget how his hand fit perfect with yours. How they came up behind you and startled you, but you settled after they wrapped their arms around you. How hearing the sound of their voice lifted all your problems you were having that day.

But most of all, you will forget how much you loved them. And one day, you’ll look back and you’ll ask yourself, “What did I see in them?” And for the life of you, you won’t know what it was.

In the age of the marriage of reason, one might have considered the following criteria when marrying:

- who are their parents

- how much land do they have

- how culturally similar are they

In the Romantic age, one might have looked out for the following signs to determine rightness:

- one can’t stop thinking of a lover

- one is sexually obsessed

- one thinks they are amazing

- one longs to talk to them all the time

We need a new set of criteria. We should wonder:

- how are they mad

- how can one raise children with them

- how can one develop together

- how can one remain friends

colchrishadfield:

People ask to see stars - my camera does its best in dim light. Our atmosphere glows in the dark.
"Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see." by Mark Twain  (via fuckinq)

(Source: observando, via abcfarnily)

wehadfacesthen:

New York, 1950s, photo by Frank Oscar Larson