How ya been ? Everything okay? whats going on at home? are you the unanswered question I’ve been looking for? Why did your voice sound so much deeper on the phone with him? I didnt even recognize it .I thought the voice was his dads, calling to check on him. Why do you sound like a person I’ve never known? How could you be here so soon and gone even sooner? I don’t understand how youre so close by but so far away from me. You are literally 13 minutes down the road sitting in your room on tumblr or talking to friends and I am here on tumblr  and  thinking of your wheraabouts and how eerie it is that someone can be RIGHT there but suddenly be VANISHED out of your life. And when you hear their voice again its as if they had died and suddenly theyre back to life and youre confused as to how they are still going on doing their daily things because without having hearing about the daily things, you dont even know whats going on anymore.

its not that way outside of breakups. I dont feel weird when i dont talk to frineds for a while. But with you its like a reminder that you exist and life goes on the same as before but..without me there. to fall asleep on your shoulder or land in your arms under your garage roof and whack that annoying tennis ball on a string out of the way as you say “dont touch it, it may fall”and tell hunter “shh baby its just me” and pet hunter, but not as much as i should have ,and sleep next to you ,but not as soundly as i could have, and lie there with you not as long as i wanted to, and not asking enough questions is the last thing thats been picking at me.like the question i wanted to ask “write a list of things that make you happy” not so much a question but a creative idea and i had ALWAYS wanted to see you do that but damn, i fucking forgot. and we forgot the wine and we forgot the cheese, and oh n owe forgot to go on our downtown picnic! and we forgot the peabody rooftop and we forgot to have sex in the car . oh god and how could we forget..we forgot to take ryan out more places and we forgot to say im sorry i miss you i love you goodbye more often and we seemed to have forgotten how to remember what was real and what wasnt

or maybe thats just me

fascinationtheory:

a thrist for writing, for literature in general, can never quite be quenched. because just when you think youve said it all, you have more to say.  and as for reading, just when you think you need to sleep, you find your eyes glued open and youre sucking in every word from the pages in front of you for hours longer. then to know that theres an endless world of books, an endless word of history and the histories of different love and heartbreaks and tragedies and peace made and wars lost and faces known and paths crossed ,to knwo that we have infinite accessibility to billions of pieces of literature dating back to everything we long to know more about..it’s an overwhelming feeling, raising goose bumps and provoking determination to keep acquiring more ways to temporarily quench the thirst, until the next book or opportunity to write comes along.

fascinationtheory:

I don’t how to not take notice. I notice so much, it’s overwhelming. A day spent outside is a day neverending; I look at the same place but each time see it in a new way and each time find more beauty. It’s as if I’ve fallen under the most wonderful spell each and every time I find myself surrounded by nature, even the smallest bit of it. Under the stars so breathtakingly new each time, or winding tree branches beckoning me to climb them, I am the most complete version of me. Just a little bit of naturality, and my soul is brought to an entirely new place of peace.

fascinationtheory:

sleepingtigers:

Lots of things might happen. That’s the thing about writers. They’re unpredictable. They might bring you eggs in bed for breakfast, or they might all but ignore you for days. They might bring you eggs in bed at three in the morning. Or they might wake you up for sex at three in the morning. Or make love at four in the afternoon. They might not sleep at all. Or they might sleep right through the alarm and forget to get you up for work. Or call you home from work to kill a spider. Or refuse to speak to you after finding out you’ve never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. Or spend the last of the rent money on five kinds of soap. Or sell your textbooks for cash halfway through the semester. Or leave you love notes in your pockets. Or wash you pants with Post-It notes in the pockets so your laundry comes out covered in bits of wet paper. They might cry if the Post-It notes are unread all over your pants. It’s an unpredictable life.

But what happens if a writer falls in love with you?

This is a little more predictable. You will find your hemp necklace with the glass mushroom pendant around the neck of someone at a bus stop in a short story. Your favorite shoes will mysteriously disappear, and show up in a poem. The watch you always wear, the watch you own but never wear, the fact that you’ve never worn a watch: they suddenly belong to characters you’ve never known. And yet they’re you. They’re not you; they’re someone else entirely, but they toss their hair like you. They use the same colloquialisms as you. They scratch their nose when they lie like you. Sometimes they will be narrators; sometimes protagonists, sometimes villains. Sometimes they will be nobodies, an unimportant, static prop. This might amuse you at first. Or confuse you. You might be bewildered when books turn into mirrors. You might try to see yourself how your beloved writer sees you when you read a poem about someone who has your middle name or prose about someone who has never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. These poems and novels and short stories, they will scatter into the wind. You will wonder if you’re wandering through the pages of some story you’ve never even read. There’s no way to know. And no way to erase it. Even if you leave, a part of you will always be left behind. 

If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die. 

by mols

wow. beautiful.

fascinationtheory:

i just feel that life is so much more than staying stuck in one place, life is so beautiful in its pain and its realizations and its downs and ups and without that we could never grow into what we’re capable of fully growing into.

just because youve known something for a long time and grown so accustomed to it and dont know how to be without it doesnt mean its right.

because some beautiful events occur and we look at them and know  that they were beautiful, and we look at each other and thank each other for having been that person to show us so much and help us learn so much

and sometimes that really CAN be it, and the future shows up all the sudden and were lost in another world and years have passed and weve each found someone new and we’ll find it very funny that we had once wondered if we could find another after everything, after a closeness such as ours

but it happens ohhh man it happens, each and every day.

and i find it very refreshing that nothing ever stays the same and no one,   no one has to think their situations permanent because all of this is one shifting, eternal masterpiece. the craziest abstract art ever made. such is life..

fascinationtheory:

here, there are four different kinds of trees:

spring, summer, fall , and winter

one bares all, naked against the gray sky, dark silhoulettes unwinding to form eerie shapes and skeletal designs but leaving us all staring in awe

the other, dressed in pinks and whites, is like a bouqet from the person you love. flowers blooming, scents of peace and renewal, these are the trees you wish to see after the naked trees have drained your soul.

and then the foliage. the brilliant hues of golds and oranges, the vibrancy unlike any other category of  tree. the overpowering beauty; its as if color has been poured onto them simply to give you that feeling of mystery and excitement that lingers in the air as these trees change to give us hope. a fresh crisp arrival of all things scary and new.

at last, the tree drawn in childhood pictures before we even understand why they turn green. leaves of green to coincide with feelings of earthiness, bare feet dipped into the edges of lakes and swimming pools,  bodies diving into fresh cool water, running through the bright green grass and losing the line  that divides earth and sky as you fall breathlessly against the dewy grass.

summer trees are perhaps my favorite, because with all the earth so green and all the sky so blue, i cant help but feel like ive walked straight into the very core of our existance and the very basics of what we know and are trained to draw as we first learn to grip a crayon.

but then again, the newness of fall and the richness of the foliage, may be just  too beautiful to ever deny as the winner.

all throughout the year these colors change and these seasons shift our spirits into something bolder, braver, or perhaps more afraid.

but all the while, it goes unnoticed far too often.

in many places, seasons do not even exist. no visible changes or drastic temperature changes. no fall leaves, no bare trees, no place to lose your head as you stare into nature’s changes and feel that nothing has ever been more perfect.

our climate and our world around us, in this southern place on the map, it brings us such aesthetic beauty; we cant even possibly take it all in at times.

i feel that i’d be lost without the promise of the changing seasons. maybe it’s something my spirit has learned to associate with my own inner growth.

reasons ,like seasons, they come and they go, and we 

must never forget to slow down and take notice.

fascinationtheory:

when

the time comes to go out and go dancing, please put on your dancing shoes, and let yourself let go.

when the room is too empty, too void of love, please remember that you alone could send it out for all to breathe in and let fill their hearts.

if all is said and done and theres no place left to hide, and the world is whispering behind you, making you doubt the very confidence you had kept by your side,

always know that i, as well as the others,

have always seen the light you carry inside of you.

fascinationtheory:

one thing i miss

is the feeling of inspiration from music

and taking it out on your body with my lips

leaving small indentations

in the parts i want to leave most affected

unnoticed by the half-asleep you, i breathe endlessly onto your neck

hoping my hot breath gets your hairs rising

gets you feeling inspired, too. 

its mostly the lyrics. and sharing that music. sharing that moment. but when was it ever right? and when is right ever fully right? 

how to know the difference

and how to change to a spare

and how to get straight a’s or how to braid your own hair

lessons and lessons and i learn all day

learning and learning but getting more puzzled everyday

who am i , without you?

with or without you, i am

a free spirit

i am a frollicking barefoot in the grass under the sky screaming at the top of my lungs, food ingesting, music digesting, passion-breathing, kind of girl

i am all of my past and all of my dreams only to keep inside of me

independent and finally becoming sure of my own sense of identity.