She’s never where she is, I said.
She’s only inside her head.
(Source: seabois, via abendabsturz)
She wanted to be loved so badly but she passed her life praying the end of the day to be alone. Unknow
She felt everything too deeply, it was like the world was too much for her.
Joyce Maynard, Labor Day (via donthateassociate)
(Source: larmoyante, via myblossom)
I have fallen in love with the idea of boys one too many times.
I have never actually fallen in love with the real them.
It it so easy to fall for one single aspect of a person - one thing about them that you admire or appreciate. You can become lost in your own mind, surrounded by these ideas of perfection. Suddenly, you begin to built up this person to be exactly what you need. They become the epitome of what you desire.
And you find yourself hopelessly in love with a ghost.
And that is what happened with you. You are human, but I built you up to a deity.
One detail about them is enough. It plants into your brain like a single seed. And then, with the nourishment of loneliness and over-thinking, they grow into a rose - blooming beautifully in your brain. But the important thing to remember about roses is that the thorns make them difficult to hold in your hand.
Your were perfect in my mind. You would be able to love me in every way I wanted to be loved. You could me laugh because you knew everything about me.
And when I closed the space between us to press my lips against yours, I feel to the ground, covered in dust.
You are a ghost. You are not real.
It is difficult being in love with a ghost.
memoirsoflovers - A.R.
Le regard est la grande arme de la coquetterie vertueuse. On peut tout dire avec un regard, et cependant on peut toujours nier un regard.
Extrait de De l’amour de stendhal