Love Isn’t A Lie. It’s Something That Can Mask Just How Unhappy You Really Are While Saying You Are

"It's 2 in the morning and I wish you here. Stupid right..."

- 2 AM Thoughts (via. Wounded-writing)

Sitting in complete silence with you isn't awkward anymore. In fact, it brings me great joy in knowing that just my presence is enough for you. And that we don't need to do anything of extravagance is a comfort of its very own.

While you slept with your dog

Someone once told me to stay away from boys with cute smiles because they are the ones that can hurt you the most.

 2 AM Thoughts

In the blink of an eye I could lose you. I hope and pray that I won’t, but those eyes and that personality will get you so many girls. So many girls that can give you the love that I can’t. Even though I can’t influence your feelings towards me, I want to stay close. Because to me, being too close is better than watching you slip right through my fingers into another girl’s arms.

What I've realized when I was at your house

I thought I knew what love was.  Love was sitting in my health class sophomore year. Love wouldn't date me until one of us could drive a car. Love played lacrosse and was a goalie, we bonded over that. Then college came 2 years later, and love left as quickly as it came.  Love became constant fights about pointless things. Love became jealous and controlling. Love ended at roughly 11:30 pm on a Tuesday night. Turns out I didn't know what love was. A month later, love's ugly cousin loneliness came in disguised as love. Loneliness was a scrawny blonde who tried to be "country". Loneliness couldn't play sports, but I was okay with that as long as I wasn't alone. Loneliness became an on and off relationship that I couldn't let go of because it had love's fond embrace. I used loneliness as an excuse to date. Loneliness left on Mother's Day around 11:30 AM, and I went to the store because I didn't know why I was so sad that loneliness, the one I had been begging myself to leave, was gone. Turns out, love also went to the store that day. Love had also just gotten out of a long term relationship. Love had texted me a few days prior to make fun of me because that was what love had done when we were friends in the past. This love was different than the love that sat in sophomore year health class. This love was sporadic 45 minute conversations in the most random places. This love popped up when I needed it the most at any point in my life. This love accepted me for who I am. Love has a fast car, and a motorcycle. Love knows I like to play with my hair. Love knows I don't get out much, but love is ok with that because he brings me to the most beautiful places. But between you and me, I don't care where this love takes me, because, I know what love is, and he treats me the right way and has the most beautiful hazel eyes and the cutest dimples I've ever seen. I know what love is because he sleeps next to me (almost) every night. I know what love is and he is the most authentic man I have ever met.

Love is in my thoughts 

I’m sorry if I seem distant. I’m sorry that I keep apologizing about the little things I do. I’m sorry that sometimes I stumble over my words when I know what I want to say. I’m sorry that you had to order food for me sometimes because I was afraid to speak to the waiter. I’m sorry that I made this situation more awkward than it should have been. I’m sorry that I made whatever we had weird. I’m sorry that we became so close. I’m sorry that I upset you because you couldn’t make me happy anymore. I’m sorry that my mind decided to close itself off to you. I’m sorry that this bottle of pills is the only thing standing between me and happiness.

I’m sorry that I ruined you

It's so close. But why can't I touch it? My fingers  just barely graze the surface, but they can't hold onto the feeling. I can't keep my eyes shut forever. I want to. I want to grab onto my oblivion and never let it go.

Inside the Artist #1

Blue and Green for the writing asks (:

Blue: What’s more important to you: characters or plot?

I love making characters, sometimes I get so excited about OC’s that I don’t even think about the plot before I start writing. Still, I try and have some sort of plot. In short, characters are more important to me.

Green: Pencil, typewriter, or computer?

I’m between pencil or computer. I love typing but I also love the freedom of writing. 

"Do you ever think about what could've been?"

-2 A.M. Thoughts (via. Wounded-writing)

Do you regret the late nights out? The ache in your chest that you can’t place anymore but know is there from the constant nagging at that one hour of the day? Do you remember the day that they left clearly? Or does the warm escape of the whisky whisk you away? Is it all a faint memory? Or is it like a car wreck? Something you won’t ever forget?

Did you love her or the idea of loving her?