I envy the stars that watch over you at night. The moon that looks at you like you’re the most beautiful man she has ever seen, that the luminosity in your hands are brighter than the stars combined.

I envy the air that touches you with the gentle caress from the sun every time you walk around the park. How your shirt touches your skin every waking day of your life. How your hair, that you haven’t cut for four months, touch the tips of your eyebrow. I envy the things that touch you in ways I cannot.

I envy the songs that stop you from what you’re doing. The songs that put you on your knees and tears on your eyes. The melodies that tell you how wonderful you are. The songs of love that surround you with the words I can never tell you.

the girl who’s envious of the things she can never be. 

481 Notes Posted: 1 month ago Source: mediwriter /

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My mother used to remind me to be careful whenever I’m in the kitchen. The utensils used can be sharp and my hands can get cut. When cooking, the pots can be hot and my skin can burn. Don’t go too close, it might hurt me. Always curl my fingers when cutting any vegetables or meat. Wash my hands all the time, because bacteria can contaminate the food. Separate the meat from vegetables. Always make sure that the food is thoroughly cook. Don’t put too much salt or sugar. Be safe no matter what, because it’s dangerous. It is trial and error when it comes to the taste of the dishes, but there’s always improvement.

I never thought it can apply to people. I can get cut with words, burn by rumors. Don’t get too close. Curl my fingers, better yet ball it into a fist. Always wash my hands of sins, don’t infect anyone, and find a way to make them right. Separate people, some bring more good than the others. Take responsibility and own up for mistakes. Don’t do too much of anything. It’s a dangerous world. Be a better person each day.

And god how I wished my mother told me these when it comes to people and society. Because I wasn’t careful enough. I am always hurting.

Be careful, C.S.

49 Notes Posted: 1 month ago /

Perhaps I liked the idea of you,
The version of you I created in my dreams,
More than I liked the reality of you,
The person who I found standing before me.

In theory, you were utterly perfect -
And yet in practice,
You fell short of my expectations.

Perhaps I liked the thought of you:
Lending me your jumper on cold winter nights;
Holding me close when the tears started to fall;
Kissing me until my lips were numb with love.

In my head, it all seemed to work -
And yet here we are,
And nothing has gone quite like we expected.

Nothing has gone quite like we expected at all.

— L.G. 

2153 Notes Posted: 1 month ago Source: introv-erted /