I Want To Hold Your Hand On A Cold Night, And Wake Up To Your Face On A Saturday Morning.

Love

I love deep conversations, like serious shit, heart to heart, just exchanging real shit, just vibing on a real level.

A story doesn't exist unless it's Told.

"She was heavenly femininity and demonic sensuality. She was angelic divine chaos and alluring sultry seduction. She was pure innocence with a devilish grin. With eyes that pierced his soul and made his heart flutter. She was kindness and empathy, and ice cold as the first winter's snow watching bridges burn to ash. She was forgiving and strong. She was freedom and captivity. And she loved him with everything she had. Everything that made her -her. She loved the devil without looking back. Accepting his utter darkness and his endearing light. He loved everything about her. He wanted her for exactly who she was, without changing any part of her. She wanted all of him, every fiber of him. She soaked him in and breathed his fire. Without ever looking back. It was a love of glorious fury as the sky opened up and applauded with thunder and lightning strikes."

If depression has a color it wouldn't black. It would be dull muted gray.

Black makes a statement.

It's solid, not allowing any light in. It's bold. It's loud. It's in your face. It's like the infinite night sky. It's lovely sin in lace.

Muted gray isn't any of those things. It's dull. It's numb.

It's soft background white noise. It's pale and not blatantly seen.

It blends into the scenery without other people even noticing.

It still lets some light in. It's nothing. It says nothing. It's just there-existing. Lifeless and drained of all life, spirit, color, and the essence of who you are. You lose your identity. You lose your personality.

In depression, you lose everything that makes you-you.

You're muted gray. And that's okay. In time, you'll heal little by little, getting yourself out of the monotone darkness you know so well. You made a bed there. You're comfortable there. Safe. But don't stay there. Even though it feels like home. It's not. It's a big grey-black veil over your real self. Your soul. Once you start healing, you lift the veil up little by little....letting light in.

As months and years go by, you've healed in many little steps that add up to a huge change in you. You're still in depression, but nowhere near as deep as you were. You remember how you were back then, and you see how much you healed for the better.

You see you're not staring at walls or patterns on drapes, or blankly staring at the floor. You're not closed off, you're not as quiet, you're smiling more, laughing more, engaging more, doing more activities you used to love and enjoy, being more sociable, and overall just being the real YOU.

You see more of your old personality shining through. THAT'S when you see the difference in you. You're not 100% healed by any means. But you've made strides. More and more...seeing your old self there in the distance in the field.

Go get her. She needs you back.

The goal for this year and for every year is to be kind and also to stop being scared of literally everything.

“Don't love deeply, till you make sure that the other part loves you with the same depth, because the depth of your love today, is the depth of your wound tomorrow.”

A story doesn't exist unless it's Told.

Look her in the eyes when you run your hand up her thighs, because her desire is in the connection. Don't be surprised, when she shivers and sighs, intimacy is your most dangerous weapon.

Kiss her real slow, and kiss her down low, you don't have to be on top to make sure you're in charge. Run your hands through her hair, till she's so close to there, then hold her close as she falls off the ledge.

Make her scream out your name, till it drives you insane, and you both lay spent on the bed. Don't even think that I'm done with you yet.

If you don’t love yourself you will always be chasing after people who don’t love you either.

One of the hardest pills to swallow as an adult is that not everyone can afford to sacrifice.

Not everyone can drop everything all at once and go on a great venture towards the uncertain roads―just to feel something new or just to restart life. Some find it easy to risk because they still have something to return to. But what about the others? What about me? What I have now is all that I got. If I stumble, it’ll take me years to get back to my feet again.

All the steps I take are counted one by one, and I feel like I was always unlucky when it comes to finding my place in this world. I am a coward, but I am extra careful. I am hesitant, but I am always protective of what I have earned.

Maybe, making mistakes is a privilege. Everyone can move forward with questions left untouched in the morning, but for someone like me who doesn’t have lifelines, I fear the cruel answers and rejections that would come up with the sun.

All my life, I have been mending the damage of my wrong decisions. And so, I pray this time, that even if I am granted nothing else but just a mediocre life―let it be gentler. Safer. I hope I am content. I just don’t want the world to once again take me at an unfair advantage just because I don’t have enough support systems.

I have no other options but to be my own safety net.

‿ℒℴνℯ⁀💕 A͓̽b͓̽d͓̽u͓̽l͓̽l͓̽a͓̽h͓̽