oh dear, little did I know, that one can fall in love so deeply.
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Unter 'own' findet ihr meine selbstgeschriebenen Texte.
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Ich liebe dich, sagt er.
Ich liebe dich auch, sage ich.
Aber es fühlt sich nicht so an.
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Wenn du nach Hause kommst, dann küsst du mich nicht mehr. Du sagst nicht ‘Hallo’. Du grinst mich nicht an. Du bist einfach wieder da. Und ich sitze in meinem Zimmer unserer Wohnung und frage mich wie das weitergehen soll.
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“Perhaps the saddest thing of all, is maybe you didn’t really hurt me by leaving. Maybe you protected me the only way you knew how, because I would have taken whatever you gave me. So you left, and you protected me from myself”
— Excerpt from a Book I’ll Never Write, Perhaps the Saddest Thing
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and i wonder if it happened day by day. ot if it was a gradual process. or if you woke up one night, after a restless sleep. and you stared up at the ceiling and wiped your eyes and thought, for no reason in particular “oh my god, i don’t love her anymore”.
i don’t know why i let the question haunt me when i know the answer would kill me.
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Ich würde gerne in Worte fassen können wie es ist mit dir zusammen zu sein.
Aber ich kann es nicht.
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I was heartbroken that night.
No, my heart didn’t crack. Not even deformed. It didn’t bled, didn’t pour my shirt with sorrow. I didn’t cry. No words uttered. I didn’t do a single thing.
You see, I thought when a heart started to ache, it’ll start fragments of chaotic emotions, it’ll ink my hands to write a line between the distance where your heart is no longer beating for me. I was heartbroken, like when the clock suddenly stopped working. It broke. Just like that, without knowing why it started spreading fire or why it’s suddenly winter.
And that night among the crowds, among the darkness, below the dimly lit stars, you’re holding her wrist, like the sparks made by the electic guitars reached your hands to put music in her heartbeat. And when the crowd started singing, you heart composed sweet melodies for her that I am familiar with. It’s a serenade, a promise. Ahh but yeah,
I was heartbroken that night.
No, my heart didn’t stop. It didn’t malfunctioned. It didn’t turn like a stone, not like how poets say it’ll be. I didn’t cry. No words are formed. I didn’t do a single thing.
But standing there while two comets collide, my heart sang with the crowd
⠀when a heart breaks, no it don’t break even.
Indeed.
— artyprose
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Once, I held on tighter instead of letting go.
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Sometimes the person we love isn’t as good for us as we think. It’s as simple as that.
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my mind says college but my heart says isolated sheep herder in Iceland
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“Perhaps it does us good…to have a fall every now and then. As long as we don’t break.”
— J.M. Coetzee (via quotemadness)
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