12:13

typewriterdaily:

Note: Each paragraph was produced in the same afternoon and then revised that night. They are all separate, independent works, but are thematically linked to form one coherent message. 

You are the girl I never talked to and the girl I never took a chance with. You are the girl I wished I’d known better. And you are the girl I will always look at with kind and curious eyes, eyes that yearn to see your deeper self until they, like looking at the sun too long and too fiercely, are forced to pull back and recede into themselves.

I find my thoughts increasingly turned toward you. My memory of you is tainted with a thousand regrets, my mind is tainted with a thousand flaws, and together you and I are tainted with a thousand missed chances.

Today, for me, is a sad day. A day of melancholic regret and nostalgic reminiscence over a girl I will see for the last time very soon.

For many years he desired to find someone that could make him feel strange, bipolar emotions. He desired such conflicting feelings because he wanted something to think about, to contemplate. He hoped such strains of the heart would give him the inspiration he so craved to write for days on end. Strange, though, it is that once he found her, the emotions strained his heart too greatly for she played his thumping organ like a violin. Eventually, he only wished for the pain to end. And though he was able to write, they were writings filled with an aching desire that he could not bear to relive.

I’ve been thinking about forgetting a lot lately. I want to say I will always remember you, but I know that to be false. Forgetting, I believe, arises only when the object being remembered is absent and soon you will be absent from my life forever. However, the memory is instantly restored when the object, since then absent, is returned. One day your absence will cause you to fall from my memory as nothing more than a nameless face. But, there is an exception to this rule of forgetting and absences. In the state of dementia, forgetting occurs even when the object is not absent and is, in fact, in plain sight. How sad is that? It is in this state of dementia that I will forget you completely. All thoughts of your image, voice, and words will die. But my feelings for you will not. They cannot. Like energy, these emotions will only transfer to different objects or people and when I love someone as I have loved you the last small remnant of your essence will float into my mind and I will remember you.

My writings to you are overflowing just as the sadness in my heart is.

I have a secret to tell you: when I got home I went straight to my desk. I began to write about you and could not stop.

20:03"I like drinking coffee alone and reading alone. I like riding the bus alone and walking home alone. It gives me time to think and set my mind free. I like eating alone and listening to music alone. But when I see a mother with her child, a girl with her lover, or a friend laughing with their best friend, I realize that even though I like being alone, I don’t fancy being lonely. The sky is beautiful, but the people are sad. I just need someone who won’t run away." — (via theoriginalsinner)

(Source: buddhacoffee, via rememberwhenilostmymind)

18:38"She did not need much, wanted very little. A kind word, sincerity, fresh air, clean water, a garden, kisses, books to read, sheltering arms, a cosy bed, and to love and be loved in return." — Starra Neely Blade  (via pureblyss)

(Source: tomywonder, via sensuwal)