' I know who I am and I am always me, although I can be really intense at times…sometimes I’m shy, painfully transparent, sharp at times, at others silly. I am one intense adjective at a time, and while I’m there, I don’t resist those feelings. I rest in those moments. I call it freedom. Maybe I’m nuts (probably,) but I notice that when I fight myself, suck myself in, I lose all the stuff, the fruit, the core of me that I enjoy the most. Some find me off-putting, but here I am. Take it or leave it. Being honest outwardly and most important inwardly is terrifying. Maybe they won’t like you. Maybe they won’t understand you. Maybe you won’t get the job. Maybe all that is true, but not every chance belongs to you. ' x
Monday, April 18, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Upon Written Pages.
"To many it is obvious — I’ve got the likes of you written all over me, in ink no less. And the string of words and phrases you’ve got me wearing feel never ending, going from line after line to pages upon pages, to the point where you could no longer see the pale of my skin, but only the goosebumps you manage to draw from just the ticklish edge of your (finger)tips. And no one understands why you I let you use me like an open canvas for your needs, because they don’t understand how it feels to have all of you blanket over me and they don’t know about the softness that’s in each stroke of your movement as you press up against me and they don’t know easily fulfilled I feel whenever I am full of you. But it isn’t about that — it’s about how just the touch of you makes me my corners curve up into a smile and how every time we get together, we have more than enough chapters to add on to continue our love story. Because as silly as it seems, I guess there just isn’t anyone else who’s got me penned like you do."
A love letter from paper to pen. x
A love letter from paper to pen. x
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)