nil desperandum

You’re stupid perfect.

The only thing keeping me going at this point is knowing that I’ll finally be meeting him in two months, in New York City. We’ll be spending our days alone with just each other :) I already have a million plans drawn out and fantasized in my mind.

As another countdown ends, another one will begin. Sixty days, then a week… and who knows what will happen during that time?

I can’t wait.

That night,

with the whole city lights laid out

before our faltering gazes,

with the cold marble benches pressing against our palms

and fairy lights strung precariously over our necks,

I longed to tell you something.

But I lacked both the words and the courage

to release what I have been burning to confess

for the past several months.

And so, in that moment of heavy silence, 

I let it slip.

And to this day, I still cannot help

but feel that it was both the

best and the worst choice

I have ever made for the both of us.

There comes a time when

the voices stop whispering into your ear

and the words stop clawing at your pen

bleeding out the tip, dying to escape

from your choking hold.

When the something that once

flowed inside of you and gave you

passion for what you did,

and love for what you saw,

and the burning urge to record down

everything you witness—

disappears.

And all that is left is 

silence.

tjisawsome:

       I want to hold your hands, see if history can be traced back farther than a time when we just met. Do your fingers provide a familiar warmth that can be mapped out as well as our fingerprints? How did we actually meet? Because I’d like to believe the story of how we met is worthy of a sitcom maybe even involving our own friends. As if we were destined to meet and we are replaying a story thousands of years ago.

       I’d like to think that when we met that a little red string pulled me toward you as a force stronger than gravity. Now it’s ridiculous propose that we were fated to be together forever. Justin Bieber said “never say never.” I said that to make you laugh and for you to see that I’m not 100% serious all the time. Because that would not be able to make you smile. It’s just that I want to make you feel more special than any girl or woman in my life because I don’t want to fuck things up with you and you’re probably the best.

       You see I’ve been broken. I was a record constantly denouncing females for their illogical reasoning and hypocritical behavior as if I was no different. Truth may have existed here and there, but the matter didn’t help my bitterness.

       It took someone sweet like you to polarize if not revitalize what’s sweet in me.

       Thank you.

(via andsomehowfindyouandicollide)

Still.

       It’s nights like this where I learn how to be still. The ticking of the clock reverberates through my room and the moonlight trickles in and swims in between my toes, so light that I feel as if I could almost walk on it. The rough cotton of my bedsheets rub between the back of my knees and I feel so wonderfully, blissfully alone that I just want to cry or scream or sob out of joy. It’s a mixture of bittersweet nostalgia and epiphanies, with the sweet hum of self-knowing pulsing in the back of my mind. I’m alive. I’m human. I’m happy. I’m content. I know certain things at this moment that would have been gapingly absent at any other hour, but yet, I still cannot put it into words. I’m a little owl who is a blind, fluttering creature in the daylight, but who blossoms from realization as soon as the sun disappears beneath ebony curtains of earth. I’m the most alive during these dead hours of the night. I’m alive, I’m alive.

"And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long."

       tjisawsome:

       She better know that she means the world. Even though I feel like I’m carrying the weight of the world with everything that is going on, I have room for her in my universe. If she’s fine with it, I’d consider her the stars, because she has a way of brightening things and even if parts of her were to fall for me, I’d catch them before they would fade in eternity or maybe I’d make wishes to give her kisses and put her back together.

       You see I do not consider her a goddess because she’s a perfectly beautiful  human being even if she’s not flawless. She has given me hope and much more than I could ever tell you. But if you wanted to know she has given me butterflies and words that make me smile. Simple. but that is enough since it’s been a while.

       What’s even more beautiful than her words to me are the ones she has written for others to see. She has a way of painting and describing that flows rhythmically if you have timing. If you were to hear her voice speaking, you would probably play it again after rewinding. If she just has that effect on me that’s fine because she makes me believe we’re connected with a little red line.

       I wish I could tell you more about her, but I have to go talk to her.

       Peace.

       I talked to a friend who I had missed dearly but haven’t spoken to in months.

       I left and cried to myself for an hour.　

"We cannot become what we need to be by remaining what we are."

It’s the little things in life..

       So I had a mini breakdown last night and I called up my friend Wa Di and my Crazy Aunt Jennifer in Taiwan, both who I haven’t spoken to in months due to different time zones and bad timing in general.

       And just talking with them, laughing with them, made me realize how it was the little things in life that uplifted my spirit during my worst of times. Listening to Wa Di joke about how through the frightening experience of nearly losing my grandpa during his coma (she’s closer to him than I am), she was busy checking out cute boys in the hospital because she was so lonely.

       And talking to my Crazy Aunt (the same one who attempts to flash security cameras in fancy hotels, the same one who grabs my boobs in public to make me feel uncomfortable, like the time she did so in a high-end department store when we were looking at bras, the same one who tried to buy me chocolate condom candies and boob/penis candies, the same one who makes penis jokes and whispers “that’s for your uncle” as we pass by lingerie..) was just something I needed after these past few months of indescribable shitty feelings and unfortunate situations. It was the fact that the first thing she said to me after such a long period of time of no speaking was, “Ivy, did your boobs grow bigger or smaller?” It was about how she said she’ll buy me a bra as a late birthday gift but she needs to “measure” me first -.- It was about how she bragged about my 9-year-old cousin being a ‘stud,’ and when I asked if a lot of girls liked her she said, “Yes.. a girl named.. your aunt.. Jennifer.” It was about how when people from other countries send her an email, she doesn’t know how to reply so she ends up calling them instead.

       I love my family. I love the people around me. I love TJ, I love my friends, and I need to remember I’m so, so blessed among everything that happens

1112pm:

Miss someone until you don’t.