I woke up this morning and decided I don’t want to love you anymore. I can’t want to love you anymore, I can’t. So today, I will be strong and I will laugh and I will read a book. I will clean my room and feed my cats. I will call my girlfriends. I will ignore your calls, I will ignore the thought of you because I can’t. I can’t keep loving you like this, I can’t keep my heart this exposed to the world. I shouldn’t be this vulnerable. I should be able to say no to you. I should be able to walk away without looking back, but I can’t. And I refuse to believe that I can’t. I just know that today I woke up and decided not to love you, and that’s what I plan to do.
Letter From Anais Nin to Clementine von Radics(After Marty McConnel)
For women who are tied to the moon, love alone is not enough. We insist each day wrap it’s knuckles through our heart strings and pull. The lows. The joy. The poetry. We dance at the edge of a cliff, you have fallen off. So it goes. You will climb up again.
You rare girl, once again, you have a body that belongs to no lover, to no father, belongs to no one but you. Wear your sorrow like the lines on your palm. Like a shawl to keep you warm at night. Don’t mourn the love that is lost to you now. It is a book of poems whose meters worked their way into your pulse. Even if it has slipped from your hands, it will stay in your body.
You loved a man who treated you like absinthe, half poison and half god. He tried to sweeten you, to water you down. So you left. And now you have your heart all to yourself again. A heart like a stone cottage. Heart like a lover’s diary. Hope like an ocean."
We do this thing- every time we see each other, the minute we touch. We melt into one another wordlessly and that’s how it stays, wordless. I can’t say I mind. I want you any way I can have you.
I don’t know why I do this, I don’t know why I am always here, without hesitation. You tell me you want to cry in my arms and I am there, I am there when you want to be kissed, I am there. I am here. You are not here. I can admit to myself that I’m the one who’s stumbling through this.
I’m the one with hope. I’m an idiot. I’m happy. I am. I’ve conquered so much, I can conquer it all. I know it. I know I don’t need you but oh how I want you. How I worry about you, about your dreams. How I ache for them to come true because I know how badly you want it. It’s all you want.
And all I want is to see you happy. And to watch you grow. And to keep you here, to keep me in check, intact. Even if we’re not intact.
But you tell me that I am in love with love. But I am in love with you. And that doesn’t make me selfish. It’s not selfish of me to kiss you each time because I am afraid each time is goodbye. I think I love you selflessly, because I am only there when you need me. I will always be here when you need me.
Even if my heart stays this way, in this constant squeeze. I don’t remember what it feels like to not have my heart squeezed. Heartbreak can cause physical pain and I am aching and I am bruised.
I Miss Sleeping Next To You. (via frauneu)