I know that’s what people say - you’ll get over it. I’d say it, too. But I know it’s not true. Oh, you’ll be happy again, never fear. But you won’t forget. Every time you fall in love it will be because something in the man reminds you of him.
Source: larmoyante
But that’s what love is like when it’s fresh and new. It’s fire and thunder and heat.
Source: larmoyante
The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love.
Source: adreamoftrains
Oh, love isn’t there to make us happy. I believe it exists to show us how much we can endure.
Source: adreamoftrains
I have no fear of losing you, for you aren’t an object of my property, or anyone else’s. I love you as you are, without attachment, without fears, without conditions, without egoism, trying not to absorb you. I love you freely because I love your freedom, as well as mine.
(via twopages)
Source: starryyeyed
I will remember the kisses, our lips raw with love, and how you gave me everything you had and how I offered you what was left of me.
(via douce--amere)
Source: andwhisper
Maybe there’s a universe where we fall asleep next to each other every night like spoons, like two innocent bunnies — my face buried in your neck, hugging your warmth — and we both don’t want anything or anybody else. Where we don’t want more, we just want each other.
Source: lajoiedevivre
There’s no heartbreak quite like when you’re seventeen and you’ve realized someone could love you and then not love you. Just like that. No more love for you.
Wonder if it will ever hurt this bad again. Realize that it does but in more subtle ways. Heartbreak becomes a more controlled insanity in your twenties, a manageable illness.
Sometimes you almost miss the way it felt to get your heart broken for the first time by a boy. But not really. Not really at all.
(via larmoyante)
Source: thoughtcatalog.com
Must love decorating for holidays, mischief, kissing in cars, and wind chimes. No specific height, weight, hair color, or political affiliation required but would prefer a warm spirited non racist. Cynics, critics, pessimists, and “stick in the muds” need not apply. Voluptuous figures a plus. Any similarity in look, mind set, or fashion sense to Mary Poppins, Claire Huxtable, Snow White, or Elvira wholeheartedly welcomed. I am dubious of actresses, fellons and lesbians but dont want to rule them out entirely. Must be tolerant of whistling, tickle torture, James Taylor, and sleeping late. I have a slight limp, eerily soft hands, and a preternatural love of autumn. I once misinterpreted being called a coal-eyed dandy as a compliment when it was intended as an insult. I wiggle my feet in my sleep, am scared of the dark, and think the Muppets Christmas Carol is one of the greatest films of all time. All I want is butterfly kisses in the morning, peanut butter sandwiches shaped like a heart, and to make you smile until it hurts.
Source: emotional-algebra
Be in high school and be waiting for it. Tell your friends, tell your diary, and even tell your parents that you want somebody to love. Everyone will nod and understand. Listen to mopey music and mope until it happens.
Meet someone in the courtyard at school. He is beautiful and seventeen and might just work out. Your stomach will ache when you see him, just like the books and the songs said it would, and this elation will wash over you like a warm cloud. Run and tell your friends about it. Listen to happy songs and be happy.
Ask him out online. Be very nervous and think about the possibility of getting rejected. You don’t feel cute enough to be loved so you would understand if he said no way, Jose, and stopped talking to you. Luckily, this doesn’t happen and after a three-hour conversation on AIM, you have somebody to be in a relationship with on Facebook.
In the beginning, hang out together in big groups and make-out in movie theatres and the backseats of cars. Go to second base underneath a blanket on a car ride to Santa Barbara. Your body vibrates from his touch and you’ve never wanted someone this badly before.
Get to know each other. Talk to him about issues with your parents and going away to college and maybe cry. Feel like you’re opening up and the connection is deepening. Your relationship appears to be right on schedule.
Lose your virginity when your parents are at work and it’s 3 P.M. and the sun is shining in through your bedroom window. Your body will shake a little bit and he’ll calm you down. Once it’s over, have sex again. And again. And again. Treat each other’s bodies like newfound treasure. When you have the house to yourself, spend hours in bed getting lost in each other’s genitalia, chests, backs. Feel obligated to do crappy sexual positions like “69” and to buy a sex toy.
Start to make mental notes of his habits. He always drinks Dr. Pepper with lunch, hates olives and he uses chapstick excessively. Treat these things as if they’re important clues in figuring out who he really is.
Gain ten pounds. Go to California Pizza Kitchen together and order the spinach-artichoke dip. He doesn’t care. You don’t care. It’s fine.
Start to become possessed by this bizarre unfamiliar emotion called, Jealousy. It takes hold of you and makes you do things like hack into your boyfriend’s e-mail and you wonder when it’ll go away.
Become co-dependent and piss off your friends. Turn into a total flake and bail on dinners, birthday parties, and concerts. Feel guilty about ignoring your friends but not enough to stop going over to your boyfriend’s house everyday to have sex and watch The Office.
Believe in everything he tells you. Plan your future together even though you know it’s unrealistic. Relate to songs by The Carpenters or Ashlee Simpson. Every love song you hear on the radio is about your relationship. Begin to feel clued in about how the world really works.
Never love this blindly and openly again. This is the first and last time it will ever be like this. When this is over, you’ll be different and love will be different.
Source: thoughtcatalog.com
There are two sorts of romantics: those who love, and those who love the adventure of loving.
(via catchingchaos)
Source: middlenameconfused
Source: cr-aving
Love is suffering. Love is hope, and faith, but it’s mostly suffering. You give a part of yourself to someone else, and then you’re with them, through the good times, and the bad times, and sometimes, you’re not going to be able to help them through the bad times, and that’s suffering. But it’s love, too. It’s wonderful, and beautiful, and perfect, but you’re going to suffer for it.
(via cubone)
Source: coffeeshopquotes
