She got a second chance.
She wanted to travel in a quest to find herself. Instead she found herself in the process of leaving what was holding her back. She realized to late, but yet in good time.
Her life started anew.
Monkey business
Your dirty little secrets are out, monkey.
We all got secrets, but unfortunately they all see daylight sooner or later - yours saw it sooner. It must be hard being you, is it? Better luck next time and remember to fade your trails.
xoxo LLM
The vulnerable truth
It feels as though you don't even care anymore. As if we didn't matter at all and that it's all a game for you and you're the winner that takes it all.
It all makes sense to me now. The signs, the response, the body language - it's all part of a game that I didn't even knew I was playing. I thought I'd been hurt before, but I've never felt like this before. I'm getting on with my life and my days are not at all different from what they used to be and I'm doing everything just as before, except I'm doing it with a broken heart. It makes everything just a little bit harder, but at least there's a majority of the good days when I laugh and smile and have fun. On the other hand, the bad days are ruining me. They remind me of what I thought we had, what I thought you felt for me. I can honestly say that I feel like those feelings were never there and that you've forgotten about me. It makes my soul cry, but I will manage, just like I did the last time.
I hate that you've done this to me and I hate what you make me feel. I hate that you said you'd never forget me and I hate that I belived you. I hate that you said you'd never felt like this about anyone and I hate the way it made me feel special. I hate the way you planned our life together, knowing that I couldn't give you what you needed. I hate that you're life turned out so great with me out of the way and I hate knowing that it did.
I hate that you made me love you.
It's called consideration and respect
You knew better than anyone how I felt, how alone and lost I felt. You knew what little would break me.
Why would you want to break me?
Words from the heart
Monkey blew his chances.
Fuck you.
We are golden
Far from the eyes equals far from the heart. I hate that saying.. It might be as true as me and the world around me, but I hate it nontheless. Or - maybe that's exactly why I hate it?
I like to think that he will love me forever, at least that a part of him will.. I am far from his eyes, that I know, but he sure enough is not far from mine. If I could, I would be with him every single day, every moment of every day. I love the art of photography. It makes it possible to have him with me where ever I might go, without even bothering him at all. Am I torturing myself? Should I let it go, let him go? That was never my intention.
One day, I will be able to be perfect enough for him, but I'm worried.. What if I can't make that happen for quite some time? Will I be too far from his heart by then, to make it perfect once again? Will there still be a place for me in his heart or will there at least be the possibility of making room for me, if nothing else? I could never picture us being apart, but I know, we know, that it's for the best. We are too good to spoil. We are golden!
Far from the eyes, far from the heart. I hope this doesn't apply for us.. I know that I will be far from his eyes, but I will keep hoping that he keeps me close enough to his heart to feel my love for him.
You're the one.
The years without rain, pt.1
They were lonely, those years. We all kept the sadness inside, it was taboo in a way, but we all felt it non the less. There was an empty void that needed to be filled, had only someone, anyone, known exactly what was missing.
The country was beautiful in a way like no other and the trees and animals were unique and precious, but even they were sad. They were utterly and completely unhappy, without knowledge of what was bothering them. The days went on and everybody did what they knew and kept their facades as good as possible until one day, a little girl started asking questions. "Why are you all so sad?" she asked her fellow countrymen. Even the smallest children could feel the insecurity that rose upon the residents of their beautiful country.
The little girl never got her question answered. What were they supposed to tell her? They really had no idea what the reason was and it was terrifying that a little girl like herself would even speak of the curse that was cast over them all. "How can I make them smile?" the little girl asked herself. She knew that everything would be better if they would all smile, if even only a bit! She lay in her bed and imagined all of her friends and the animals and the plants. "They are so beautiful! Each and every one of them!" she thought. "How pretty would they be if they were happy and truly pleased with their lifes?" She couldn't manage to get this thought out of her head until she finally fell asleep and dreamt of the perfect happiness that she knew existed, somewhere.
This is no lie
i love you.
1
Det føles som om det er milesvis til den andre siden av kjøkkenbordet. Hun ser på meg med et iskaldt blikk og jeg vet at hun ikke vil ha meg her. Det er ikke første gangen hun ser på meg med det blikket, tross alt. Jeg ser at tårene gjør øyene hennes blanke og hun strever hardt for å holde dem tilbake. Hun vil ikke la meg se henne gråte sier hun, hun har visst allerede kastet bort alt for mange tårer på meg.
Jeg ser på henne, tar inn alle detaljer av ansiktet hennes. Mine øyer viser medlidenhet, ydmykhet, skam, kjærlighet - dette er ikke annet enn skuespill. Alt jeg tenker på er hvor lenge vi skal leke denne gangen. Det er langt i fra første gangen vi sitter ved dette bordet, på denne måten, og det vil ikke være den siste heller. Hun vet godt at jeg ikke er bra for henne, men det har gått for langt allerede og hun klarer ikke gi slipp på kjærligheten vi har.
Vi vet begge hvordan dette spillet forløper seg; hun gråter seg tom for tårer mens jeg forteller hvor lei meg jeg er og hvor høyt jeg elsker henne. Når hun gråter som verst og skriker for full hals nærmer vi oss slutten, den siste etappen. Det er da jeg reiser meg fra stolen min ved vinduet og setter meg på huk foran henne med hendene på lårene hennes. Hun begynner å slå meg selv om hun vet av erfaring at jeg er langt sterkere enn henne. Jeg holder henne igjen, akkurat hardt nok, og forsøker å roe henne ned mer beroligende ord om hvor mye hun betyr for meg etterfulgt av intense kyss. Jeg overbeviser henne om at hun er den eneste for meg, den eneste jeg virkelig vil ha. Hvorfor skulle jeg ville ha noen andre når jeg har en perfekt jente her hjemme?
Etter noe som føles som timer hvor jeg har strøket henne i håret og hvisket søte ord i ørene hennes slår hun armene sine rundt meg og ber meg om å aldri dra fra henne, aldri gi slipp på det vi har sammen. Jeg kysser henne bekreftende på alt hun ber meg om mens jeg priser meg lykkelig over å vite at leken er over. Det er nå jeg får lønn for strevet, det er nå jeg vet at det siste døgnet med beklagelser og skuespill var verdt det - hun er den beste jeg har prøvd i senga, særlig etter en voldsom krangel!
"Hvor skal du" hvisker hun med sin nydelige morgenstemme. "Du skal vel ikke dra riktig ennå?". Jeg ville ikke vekke henne. Jeg hater å forlate en naken pike som er klar for å gi av hele seg. Hun strekker seg litt og det tynne lakenet avslører de nydelige formene og når hun snur seg over på siden faller lakenet forsiktig bort fra de lange bena hennes. Hvordan kan jeg motstå slike fristelser? Jeg er gal etter ben og det vet hun.
Øyene hennes er fortsatt hovne etter krigen kvelden før og jeg kysser øyelokkene hennes ømt. Jeg har aldri elsker noen slik jeg elsker henne! Det er en fantastisk følelse å ligge inntil den varme kroppen hennes og kjenne hjertet hennes slå rolig. Jeg følger pusten hennes som jeg har gjort så mange morgener tidligere, mens jeg forelsket dagdrømmer om fremtiden vår sammen. Dette er jenta jeg vil leve med. Dette er jenta i mitt liv!
Nattens store tanke
Hvordan vet man om man tar det riktige valget?
Jeg ser aldri ut til å føle meg sikker på noen av dem.
