But oh god, I don’t even know how to begin to slowly separate pieces of him from my life, and how to fill that void. I know I can do it and I will, eventually. But right now I’m just slightly heartbroken and incapable of doing anything but missing him.

Goodbye {for now}

It hasn’t even been half an hour since you stepped out of my door, but that precious spot in my chest is already aching so tenderly. Words can’t express how grateful I am you drove down with me this weekend to see me off to college—and yet, how sorrowful I am to say a {temporary} goodbye.

If you can do one more thing for us, darling, it’s this: just please, find it within you to have an ounce more of courage in us? We are two wholly intact people in a healthy relationship, busy in the business of being madly in love with one another. If there’s two who can face impending obstacles together, fiercely and relentlessly, it’s us. It’s us, darling…

Because when I saw you in the hospital room nearly two months ago, just surfacing from the tidal wave of drugs and drowsiness, I saw the pain and confusion register in your face. And that, for me, was unbearable, because for the first time in the three years of our friendship, you were openly vulnerable. And as I climbed up to lay beside you on the narrow medical cot, intertwined with your tubes and needles, I knew then that I never wanted to leave your side again. And when I tenderly lifted up your oxygen mask to deliver kisses to your new, swollen lips, I could feel the physical contact between us easing both of our tension and emotional pain. Just feeling you against me, holding me as tightly as you did before (and as tightly as you do two months later), made everything worth it.

I am wildly in love with you, Oliver Shou, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Anonymous asked: you and Olly are so cute~ congrats!

Awww thanks hehe :3 He makes me really happy and I hope he feels the same way about me.

We just had a wonderful Tuesday night together yesterday. He spent like two hours travelling to come see me after a busy day at school, and I surprised him with a little wrapped present :) And followed an amazing night together, as usual. Evan once told me that you know you’re in love when you can spend forever just gazing at them as they’re sleeping, and “that’s when you know you’re fucked.” Well, I guess I passed that test after watching him last night.. I’m officially and completely lovesick now haha :) 

Leave me a prompt and I’ll answer in prose//poetry?

Pretty please? -> Ivylively.tumblr.com/ask

I’m having a pretty miserable Saturday in and I’d love to receive lovely topics to write about.

Excited for another weekend together! Isn’t it silly that I still get all nervous and fluttery before our dates?

Excited for another weekend together! Isn’t it silly that I still get all nervous and fluttery before our dates?

First love

It is now precisely 3:32 AM on September 1st, 2014, exactly 7.5 days after he asked me to be his, and 36 days after we started dating. I wish to pen down this equally small yet momentous moment that just occurred, the shimmering metallic thread that was suddenly woven into the intricate fabric of my life: I want to record the moment I realized that I had finally fallen underneath the tidal wave of genuine love with the man who has loved me, and I have no intention of resurfacing to sanity anytime soon. 

It was a sudden but quiet epiphany, one that took place after weeks of over-analyzing and dissecting my own feelings in fear of hurting the one I cared for the most, for I never wished for those three immense words to slip out of false lips if I didn’t mean them with every fiber of my being—for, as a writer, there is nothing that weighs of more importance than the three most simultaneously constructive and destructive words in the human language. And, as a woman, there was admittedly a small fragment of me that forced myself to consider my emotions before throwing all caution to the wind, for the battlescars from my past have not completely healed yet, and I had no intention of inflicting more wounds upon either of us. 

He had first told me he loved me the night after we got back from a beach boardwalk date with my group of friends. I snuck him into my bedroom, and ensued one of the most memorable nights we’ve ever had. My eyes drowned in his adoration and my skin melted under his lustful touch. Every fiery gaze we shared was laden with unspoken words, burning intimacy, and gentle passion. Our emotional connection manifested itself into physical actions, and together, we nuzzled, moaned, giggled into the inkiness of the night. It was sometime in the AMs when he looked directly into my eyes and said, “I love you.” I thought it was his usual childish way of proclaiming platonic love for me, as it was something we occasionally uttered during our friendship; and during our relationship, it was what he used to express his puppy love for me. I sighed and half-jokingly berated him for using “love” so carelessly, reminding him that I wished him not to say it again until he meant it in the romantic sense.

"But I do love you. I’m in love with you," he said through wired-shut teeth, as this occurred only days before his post-surgery wire removal.

My first thought was, ironically, I didn’t expect my first time of a boy proclaiming his love to me to be through lips that can barely open. My second reaction was emotional, and I was moved with joy. But I could not repeat those words back to him, and he knew why. And in the following few weeks, every sincere “I love you” of his was followed by my “I really like you,” or “I’m falling in love with you,” or, worse enough, our silly little inside joke, “I bloop you”—to which he would half-jokingly shrug off with a frown and a sigh, “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

A similar reenactment of this kiddish back-and-forth occurred earlier tonight, after which I seriously explained to him that I didn’t want to say those words until I was completely ready and fully believed in them. I assured him I was falling in love, but I just wasn’t quite there yet. And at that time, I once again secretly wondered to myself just how much longer both of us would wait until I could finally experience the emotion that has eluded me for the past five years. Frustration and doubt crept up, and I hoped I’d be able to return his emotions before the end of summer, which marks my departure to university and the beginning of our long-distance relationship.

But it was only a few hours later when I was wrapped up in his arms and laying on top of him, both of us unclothed and underneath a mountain of fuzzy blankets, my face inches away and my gaze settled on those beautiful light brown eyes, that the words ‘I love you’ suddenly crept into the back of my throat and threatened to erupt from my tongue. I held the words back as my heart started racing, and I consciously reevaluated my feelings, asking myself if I was certain of my emotions.

But there was no remaining doubt in me—because, you see, love is a curious sensation. It is hardly describable, and when it is depicted by various artists and writers, it seems to have a differing, but extremely profound effect on every creature it encounters. For me, the reason I knew I was in love was because I felt the physical and desperate urge to tell him a thousand times, right there, that I was in love with him. I knew I loved him as I knew the sky was blue and grass grows green—there was no doubt about something that seemed so certain and factual, almost as if my love could be objectively depicted and explained in scientific textbooks. I realized these emotions were valid and not the result of spontaneous reactions of the heat-filled moment as I reminisced upon the countless days we spent together this summer. In the space of those few seconds, I thought of the innumerable amount of raw and genuine moments we shared: tearful breakdowns, heart-pounding happiness, outpouring of hidden confessions, and grand gestures of affection and adoration. I thought of how I have never felt so secure, protected, and loved, and how I have never felt such an overwhelming desire to protect and love just as fiercely. 

"Olly?" I asked breathessly, staring into his eyes. He answered, "Yeah?" to which I immediately hid underneath the blankets, then eventually peeked out at him. His face contorted into concern and he kept asking me what was wrong, and I continued to hide and stutter underneath the blankets. I could feel my heart pounding and heat blooming in my cheeks. I poked my head out of my blanket bundle.

"I.. I had something to tell you. But never mind." He laughed and called me a dork. I eventually pulled the courage to discard the sheets aside, and I looked at him directly in the eyes.

'I.. I think I'm in love with you,” I stuttered ineloquently, gracelessly tripping over my words.

"You think?’ 

'I.. I know. I'm in love with you,” I said once so that the words would escape the prison of my mouth, and then again just to hear that lovely phrase travel through the air again. “I'm in love with you.”I marveled at the way those words rolled so easily off my tongue, ringing so true. He answered my words with a deep kiss. My lips found his and we kissed passionately and forcefully at first, hands grabbing at each other until our lips eventually melded into a soft symphony, sharing loving affection and tasting each other for the first time again, anew. Throughout the night, we followed with more intimacy and cuddling, in which my “I love yous” staccatoed throughout, followed by my giggles of pleasure, as I was thrilled to finally be able to say it. I would repeat it several times in a row and laugh, astonished at these words and the meaning they conveyed to him. I was in pure bliss, and so was he.

He fell asleep shortly after, but I have been awake, trying to wrap my tongue again and again around these foreign words and define what they mean to me, and to him. But love is such a mysterious and foreign entity, an ever-shifting enigma that has eluded the descriptions of poets for centuries. So who am I, a silly 19-year old aspiring writer who has just had her first taste of his lovely poison, to attempt to describe it in a state of grogginess at 5:02 AM? I’ll save that for another day, but for now, I just want to return to his arms in that warm bed again.

My darling is lying a few feet away from me, curled up on his bed with his eyes shut and fingers curled. Occasionally throughout the night while writing this, I have crept up behind him and planted secret kisses along his bare back, the smooth expanse of his neck, his cheeks, his nose, his lips. I lock his fingers in mine and I marvel at this human being, who, by the small coincidences of Chance and Fate, share this unbounded love with me. And I realize, for the hundredth time, that I am so lucky to be in love with Oliver Shou.

Oh, how I miss writing..

Don’t worry, Tumblr. I haven’t forgotten about you. Once this whirlwind is over, I’ll be running back into your arms soon.