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a collection of my random musings.
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hotmofo.
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you’re the one i want to watch the sunset with :)
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Model with a message.
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get in my bed now <3
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It’s been all tough reality, the comings and goings of the daily crunch time drill. After all its about time too.
Something’s wrong with me. That’s for certain. If i feel like this now, how will i feel in 10 years time? Do i give too little, and then expect too much? The more it seems like it doesnt matter, the more i realise it actually does.
What is it i want, and what is it i keep searching for? Why is it whenever reality falls too flat, hopes and dreams always have to suffice?
I need someone who will just take me by the hand, pick me up, and warn me that its going to be tough, but promise me its going to be a helluva adventure.
Maybe we’re all looking for that one direction.
My heart is heavy, my eyes are hot. It feels as though my heart has sank to the bottom of my stomach and I don’t know what to feel or how to get past this. They say love is the infatuation and fluttering hearts, I say love is watching someone die.
My words are choked up, my throat feels dry. You ask me what’s wrong and the tears well up. I need to talk about this somehow to get this off my chest. But at the moment I cant put it in words. Words fail in many circumstances, too many.
I step into the house, and make a beeline for his room. His voice, softer and weaker. In pain, and unable to sleep. I wish I could help. If I could, I would. When faced with death some the dying seem dazed. Some accept their fate. Some want to fight, some just give up. He seemed almost upset, disgruntled. I wish you didn’t say you’d rather die. I really do. I don’t know how or what I can do to make you realize that all you have is love and all you have is hope, and I want you to fight.
He said he wanted to give away all his antique bird cages to my dad. Most of his birds have died because he’s too weak to take care of them. Those birds are his life. The only thing left that he truly loved, other than biking. Those words seem almost like a sentence to himself. The finality of those words chill my heart and wrench my stomach inside out.
The baby in the next room cries. Giggling and gurgling. How can so much life and joy coexist with so much pain and suffering and looming death? How can I turn away and leave?
