God is really working his butt off to replace you. He is introducing me to all these fine fellas who have the world to offer with no intention of discluding me in their plans. They have careers and nice cars. They take paid vacation and have so much in common with me. They laugh at all my jokes and insist I am the most unique female they’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Many of them love the same sports as me while enjoy the same interests. And many of them want families and a life they can be proud of and love. As well as morals, many of them also follow and worship God, the man so dead set on pushing you out of my life, my head, and my wants, and they look me dead in the eyes when speaking with me. The eyes that many of these eligable men have are beautiful, filled with passion, drive, spirit, and pride. So many are so stable and emotional in all the right ways. Every single one meeting the body types I prefer.
But I always think of you and our kiss in the rain. I always think of you and our long hugs and longer goodbyes. I think of your smell and your taste. The night we went out for stand up comedy and beers and you told me that you like that I’m level headed. I think of our first date and how gross octopus tasted but the smile you gleamed was so fierce and electric, I let the taste disgust me even knowing I wouldn’t enjoy it. I think about you in my sleep because I dream about you. A lot. I think of how close we came to being each others everything and how I had so much hope tied in with our last first kiss as a couple.
Most women would feel hate for a man like you. One who treats them second best. Most women would hate you for lying and telling them you’d take care of them. Most women would hate you for letting you make them feel safe, so they tell you the biggest secret of their life.
I’m not sure why I can’t hate you and I’m not sure why I can’t allow all these perfect matches to pursue me…
But finding a home when you never thought you would can cause a girl to be persistant, even when she knows you don’t have attraction towards her anymore. A homeless woman will fight till shes dead for a place that makes her heart beat slow and her mind release all fears.
I understand you. And it’ll be the death of me.
Sometimes I wish I’d have never met you, yet something in me still believes we are meant to end up together, so it doesn’t allow me to forget you.
You’re a man that makes no sense to love.
But I do anyways.
We are not defined by what’s around us, rather how react to what’s around us. We are not molded by people, rather how we handle what people give us. We are a greedy race, consumed by and radiating off the feeling of need towards things that we can collect. Things like money, love, fear, power, and persistence. It’s rare to hear of people with an addiction of saving others unless it has to do with helping them get ahead in a certain category pertaining to success of the life they lead in the same direction of something on their own selfish level. If it is not benefiting their own existence, it’s nothing worth helping out with.
At least that’s something I’ve noticed. I cannot say that all people are evil because they are not, but all people do have something in them that creates a devil all their own. We are haunted by the demons that surround us on our own personal level, it’s just a matter of if we let it effect how we treat the people around us; stranger and acquaintance, enemy and friend. What’s the purpose of religion, morals, ethics, and manners if all we do is discard them unless begging for mercy and salvation? What’s the point of having anything positive in life if all we are going to do is use them whenever we are on our last string?
My life is a cornucopia of bogus outcomes and abuses that I never even believed people had the nerve to attempt. Sorry to say, my opinion on people as a whole has developed a new category of “misfortune”. I don’t believe in hopelessness, because everyone can be saved if they allow themselves to be, so misfortune fits better because it means that the people of bad quality are simply “unfortunately lost”. And I pray they find their way home, only some are unfortunate enough to where they don’t want to be found.
I’m running out of time.
Keep thinking about this subject.
Dissect it more yourselves.
You change the locks on your apartment, wash everything
he touched. Even if it means scrubbing the toilet bowl,
the bedsprings, the kitchen floor three times over.
Smash plates one after the other, dump out all the mint tea.
Learn how to pronounce your name without his immediately
The Pleasure Of My Company, Steve Martin (via fromliterature)
The History of Love, Nicole Krauss (via fromliterature)
I’m probably making another mistake. I’m probably being the girl that the old me would yell at. I’m probably strong in the worst sense possible because it makes me allow a lot of abuse and still cares.
When he took you home the first time, his entire kiss
fit into your mouth like a city after the flood, and
the two of you held your breath so long you blacked out.
They say that once a couple in Ancient Egypt became trapped
beneath the weight of rubble from a collapsed pyramid,
I think that we are all capable of making ourselves happy, its just how quickly we get past the current reasons behind why we are not. Its all about how you handle your life’s fouls, time outs, jump shots, and free throws.
When life passes you the ball, sometimes it’s not smart to take the shot and hope it goes through the net. Sometimes you gotta weigh your options. The shot clock gives you 25 seconds to map out your court. You can either use your shot clock, or go straight for the hoop. But you gotta look at the score. Is the score too close? Do you need some extra time? Maybe call a time out to make your opponent sweat a little. Or draw the foul to score an extra shot, just to put a little more distance between you. Sometimes we gotta make more time, sometimes we gotta work with what the clock gave us.
Its all about reading your court and knowing your game.