Why's This So Duckin ADORABLE????? I'm Getting Cuteness Aggression~

EXTRACT FROM CRYBABY (og book written by me) ;3 You smell like the dew and sunshine all together. You feel like the softest, most huggable cotton candy, in all its sweetness. You're wet lush grass, so so welcoming, I might just lay down and never get up again. You breathe like wisps of smoke in the air, and threads of night with stars scattered. You taste like love, like devotion, like ambrosia, you taste like you're mine and like I'm irrevocably yours. You are cosmic radiance, you're the sun to my moon. You are so beautifully true, you are just, SO YOU. [The book is yet to be published :p. A teen with a lot of stress is doing her best anyways.]

Intimacy.

Squishy and subtle intimacy, not the boisterous kind. The gentleness of whispering in the night, pressing on your laughter in a futile attempt to stay quiet. Sounds of shushing, lit eyes filled with all the sparkle in the universe. Feather-soft chuckles. Tender and tranquil intimacy. Arms wrapped around the waist, tickles and soft breaths like the summer breeze. Pepper-light kisses, of whatever kind of love along with a sweet ever-lasting gentleness. Secret signs, inside jokes, hidden conversation with a contagious effect. The intimacy of knowing that someone loves you just as you do, of having flowers bloom in your heart just by seeing them. The intimacy of being enveloped in such a stupendous amount of warmth, that your heart is left in nothing but a fuzzy pool of honeyed liquid, *absolutely melted*. So much so, that you feel like you're nothing but a clueless marshmallow, floating so peacefully on the top of the biggest, hottest, loveliest cup of hot-chocolate ever. The intimacy of someone speaking for you, sharing your preferences before you could even ask for it or correct someone. The saccharine feeling of the sun on your back on a mildly-cold morning, the scent of flowers tangling with the flowers in your own chest. Tingling, glowing, weaving, creating~ You know that it's the right kind of intimacy, that you're truly being loved, when your emotions get so candied, that they start dripping, radiating joy, enough to bring about a sugar-rush. You know that you've truly accepted others' care and gentleness, when the cuteness aggression truly gets to you. And, you're left speechless, in the best way possible.

Kafka, this drives me crazy wth bro, please don't set false standards T-T god, men like this don't exist anymore, this pmo, I'm gonna cry. [As a sidenote, this is one of my favorites from 'Letters to Milena'. Franz Kafka, the man you were. He deserves the biggest, warmest hug ever.]

“You can bomb the world into pieces, but you can’t bomb it into peace.” – Michael Franti

;p

lock in

not me with Sukunaaaaaa

This reminds me of when I wrote a poem about yearning: The yearning to be someone's yearning, and the yearning of a poetess to be someone's poem <3

I did it for the kitty :3

Wistfulness.

Isn't it like so ironical, how we hurt someone at first without any intention to, just because we want to live better. But then, their absence deters your life from the "live better" path. All you can do is look at them from a distance, while they're laughing, making the jokes they once made with you, smiling that absolutely beloved smile, the same smile that falters when you come closer. How could you say that you don't love them? When you're out here, looking at every unconscious action of theirs: head shakes, leaning backwards slightly, posture, jumping down, walking in a particular pattern, absolutely absolutely honey-melted smiles (which no longer belong to you). You long for all that comfort, all those smiles, all that happiness to be directed at you again, because tell me, it did leave a gaping hole right in the center of your heart when they finally went away, didn't it? A void which I suppose cannot be filled with anything except their love all over again, but you cover it. With the little of conscience you have left, how could you long for them? You were the one who hurt them in the first place, then how could you, in all your selfishness, look at them so wistfully. You don't deserve it, do you? You don't deserve the pureness and sweet bliss of their soul again, even with its faults and twistedness. Why do you so desperately want to redo everything, do it differently, do it softly WHEN you said that your choice was "thought of", to do it the way you did, with no possible explanation; is it because you want the life you had before, or do you want them back? You wonder if it's the whispers of those around you leading you into this spiral, or your own guilt and love, but it doesn't change the fact that you've fallen, you supposed "angel". You were never a saintess, you are so much worse and with time, when you look in the mirror again, all you can see is what you were running from: A twisted, yearnful, yet so so hurt woman, who's irrevocably lonely. Always, always, ALWAYS.