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Hearing your voice brings back all the memories.
Seeing your face pushes out all the frustrations once again.
Having to talk to you makes my thinking unclear.
And crying every time I need to face the reality that..
I never really became a part of you..
When you became almost every inch of me.>>
*_*
Inexpressible Love:
"To know that one does not write for the other, to know that these things I am going to write will never cause me to be loved by the one I love, to know that writing compensates for nothing."
- Roland Barthes
*_*
You shouldn't be stupid enough to fall in love with someone who is stupid enough not to fall in love with you.>>
*_*
Universal Heartbeat:
"As long as we feel pain, there is hope. We are not deas inside... and depression breeds empathy."
- Juliana Hatfield
*_*
But I didn't think of it then. I was in love, and being in that state is like having a paper bag on your head. All around you are brick walls, open manholes and homicidal motorists. But it never occurs to you to take the paper bag off your head. Beacuse inside the bag, before your eyes, is a Van Gogh sunrise.>>
>>I'm sorry I do not know whom to acknowledge.
Seeing your face pushes out all the frustrations once again.
Having to talk to you makes my thinking unclear.
And crying every time I need to face the reality that..
I never really became a part of you..
When you became almost every inch of me.>>
*_*
Inexpressible Love:
"To know that one does not write for the other, to know that these things I am going to write will never cause me to be loved by the one I love, to know that writing compensates for nothing."
- Roland Barthes
*_*
You shouldn't be stupid enough to fall in love with someone who is stupid enough not to fall in love with you.>>
*_*
Universal Heartbeat:
"As long as we feel pain, there is hope. We are not deas inside... and depression breeds empathy."
- Juliana Hatfield
*_*
But I didn't think of it then. I was in love, and being in that state is like having a paper bag on your head. All around you are brick walls, open manholes and homicidal motorists. But it never occurs to you to take the paper bag off your head. Beacuse inside the bag, before your eyes, is a Van Gogh sunrise.>>
>>I'm sorry I do not know whom to acknowledge.