There is a moment.

It happens often. When you realize something about yourself, or come to a decision about something. And sometimes it’s no fun. This moment? Realizing that you’re no good for somebody, because you will only hurt them, and the longer you try not to, the more you’ll prolong the pain.

I’m okay with optimism

and being hopeful, even if it brings disappointment. Hope — it makes you feel so alive. And feeling alive is worth a little bit of pain.

You’d think these things should take time.

More than a moment, or a few short words or phrases.

You’d think it would be harder then looking at a few pictures, and exchanging a paragraph or two, before there was that twisting of the insides, the catching of breath, and the nervous checking of the phone. When did it become so easy to get so wrapped up, to loose all cognitive thoughts, and abandon yourself to being completely and utterly vulnerable.

Vulnerable.

It’s not going to last. You know it already. You feel it in your heart, the beginnings of defences that are building themselves up to protect from the disappointment you have grown so familiar with. It seems almost a close friend, disappointment. You know it, you’ve felt it, and you know you will feel it again. But this hope, this optimism?

This feels new.

It always feels new at the beginning.

(via myonlyescapeisyou)

"I think it’s great for two people to be together. That is a good number. I think, that to keep it alive though, you can’t spend every day together. It wears out the magic, Love means nothing to me if it’s not fortified with fierce, painful longing, brief explosive instances of furious passion and intimacy and then a sad parting for a time. In that way, you can give your life to it and still have a life of your own. I think some couples spend too much time together. They flatten out the potential for experience by constant closeness. Passion builds over time like steam. Let it rage until it’s exhausted and then leave it alone to let it build up again. Why can’t love be insane and distorted? How can it be vital if it has the same threshold as normal day-to-day experience? Why can’t you write burning letters and let your nocturnal self smolder with desire for one who is not there? Why not let the days before you see her be excruciating and ferment in your mind so on the day you go to the airport to pick her up, you’re nearly sick with anticipation? And then when desire shows the first sign of contentment, throw it back it its cage and let it slowly build itself back into a state of starved fury. Then when you are together, it all matters. So that when you look into her eyes, you lose your balance, so that when she touches you, it feels like you have never been touched before. When she says your name, you think it was she who named you. When she has gone, you bury your face in the pillow to smell her hair and you lie awake at night remembering your face in her neck, her breathing and the amazing smell of her skin. Your eyes go wet because you want her so bad and miss her so much. Now that is worth the miles and the time. That matches the inferno of life. Otherwise you poison each other with your presence day after day as you drag each other through the inevitable mundane aspects of your lives. That is the slow death that I see slapped on faces everywhere I go. It’s part of the world’s sadness that’s more empty than cold, poorly lit rooms in cities of the American night."

- Henry Rollins (via claireyb)

(via myonlyescapeisyou)

I could acknowledge what is complicated, or becoming so, or I can let it be as it is, without calling it anything or wondering where it will go, and simply enjoy.

(via wewerestargazing)

Honesty is painful.

Painful to hear, read or receive. But even harder still to share with people around us. It is so simple to be blunt and honest with somebody that we don’t know or like. The rude kid behind the counter at the mcdonalds, the manager of a restaurant where your server is obviously high on drugs, the vulgar and forward hordes of drunken hormonal teenagers in the club scene. But when it comes to telling people the honest truth, when you care about them and their feelings, it’s almost just as painful for you.