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Blurty for A Numb Soul.
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| Monday, September 17th, 2012 |
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| “Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” |
| Wednesday, August 29th, 2012 |
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What good is sunrise if you were not there with me to watch the sunset? |
| Sunday, August 26th, 2012 |
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Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worse, returned. But one thing about human beings puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within. -Sigmund Freud |
| Thursday, August 9th, 2012 |
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For one human being to love another; That is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks...The work for which all other work is but preparation. -Rainer Maria Rilke |
| Wednesday, August 8th, 2012 |
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| George Chapman, "Promise is most given when the least is said." |
| Saturday, August 4th, 2012 |
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I love you without knowing how, when, or from where; I love you straightforwardly, without problems or pride; I love you because I don't know any other way than this, in which neither 'you' nor 'I' exist… so close that your hand on my chest is mine, so close that your eyes grow heavy when I tire. "I simply love you." -Pab Neruda |
| Wednesday, August 1st, 2012 |
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| I watch as she breaks herself open and leaks out against my chest. Her scars, the ones not caused by crashing cars, lay exposed beneath my hands. She digs her finger nails into my skin and I hold back a hiss of pain. It's like she needs to know I'm real. She needs to know that I'm constant. |
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I like you calm, as if you were absent, and you hear me far-off, and my voice does not touch you. It seems that your eyelids have taken to flying: it seems that a kiss has sealed up your mouth. Since all these things are filled with my spirit, you come from things, filled with my spirit. You appear as my soul..... - PAb Neruda |
| Wednesday, July 25th, 2012 |
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| People don't start off with scars. They don't start off with cracks, or holes or any of the sort. Probably because when we first come about, we haven't had anyone leave us. We haven't had people not love us, not understand us, or fail us, or tell us one thing and then the very next day tell us the complete opposite. So after a while of all these things happening, this perfect vessel we were born into, suddenly becomes not so perfect. These cracks start to shine through. But maybe that's the whole point of finding someone you can trust. So that when the morning comes, and the light shines over those cracks, the person you love, the one that returns your love, will trace their fingers over these cracks, and love them too. |
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| There's something about standing naked and being face to face with someone you love. It's simple to have sex most of the time. People just take off each others clothes or don't take off each other's clothes and have sex in cars, alleys, movie theatres, strangers apartments. But there's something different about having sex, or making love, or whatever you want to call it, with someone that you care about. And not just in, oh you're nice and I like you kind of way, but an actual, I love you, I don't want to think or look at anyone else but you kind of way. You're looking at each other as though you're windows. You're made of glass and you're standing there, and most times you can see your reflection, but then there are other moments where you can see straight through to the other side. Straight through to the person whose underneath all that dust that's grown on the window shade. You can see the cracks, you can see where small scared vessels have sailed and left stories. And you kind of wonder that if you see these cracks, you might be the light they've been searching for. The light that shines through the window shade. |
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| It was a story about a boy who had lost the girl of his dreams. He described the feeling as though something had gone missing from him. As though half of him was no longer there anymore. Can you even imagine meeting the one person who understands the very hidden parts of your heart? The person who could swim through all your insecurities, move all the boxes that fill the attic in your mind, and reach into the darkest parts of your soul, and all the while love you even more, because of it? Can you ever imagine meeting someone, though even in the most brutal storms, just stays with you? No matter what you put them through, no matter how much you ignore them, stray or get lost in your own mind for a while and come back, they always stay on the front porch, waiting for you. The light never goes out. Your outline always remains in the bed sheets, and they never fill your draw in their wardrobe. They become a part of you, and you become a part of them. So much so, that if they were to ever go missing, it would feel like you went missing too. |
| Tuesday, July 17th, 2012 |
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True love comes in quietly, without banners or flashing lights; without force or insanity. She is the sanity in your world full of madness. True love is not how grand you are or how simple you are, it's who you are when you're with her - and she loves you not in spite of it, but because of it. She's the one who stands with you when the rest of the world falls down. -Thomas Wild-Fontaine |
| Sunday, July 15th, 2012 |
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“I am convinced that loving me is an immeasurable burden. Thank you for handling it with such grace. I know I am and always have been crazy, but you have never stopped saving my life.” — Tyler Knott Gregson |
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“What becomes of words when they never find the eyes they were written for?” —Tyler Knott Gregson |
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“Come here and take off your clothes and with them every single worry you have ever carried. My fingertips on your back will be the very last thing you feel before sleeping and the sound of my smile will be the alarm clock to your morning ears. Come here and take off your clothes and with them the weight of every yesterday that snuck atop your shoulders and declared them home. My whispers will be the soundtrack to your secret dreams and my hand the anchor to the life you will open your eyes to. Come here and take off your clothes.” — Tyler Knott Gregson |
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“Hours could be spent explaining how these veins carry that blood to flush those cheeks or how the sensation of pleasure is carried with lightning quickness from your lips to your brain and back down to the tips of your toes. We could spend hours diagramming and mapping out the science of your body with mine, your skin touching my skin, or we could just stop and make love again.” — Tyler Knott Gregson |
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“I stare at your lips, and fall in love with the way they form the words that you say.” —Tyler Knott Gregson |
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“Can you feel me? Do you know what I say when my lips forget to speak? Have we met here before, here in all this dust and light? Who were you before me? Will you understand if I never mourn the loss of all I was before you?” — Tyler Knott Gregson |
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“We are the only people I have ever known that can make love from across a crowded room.” — Tyler Knott Gregson (Typewriter Series #88) |
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“I love the stolen seconds of a stunning us and I love the way your eyes light up when they look at mine. I love the parentheses of your smile almost become quotation marks when they are stretching out for me.” — Tyler Knott Gregson |
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Blurty for A Numb Soul.
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