Bibelot
"These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume."
Much to everyone's surprise, including my own mind you, I really do have a thing for romance. I have a thing for every silly, stupid, girly, romantic movie in the world. It is not the entirety of the movie that I adore, but a select few moments throughout, where my heart actually aches. I have known and understood for an infinitely long time that life never truly operates under these assumptions. But the single moments are more than possibility, they are based on something real. For every second of every day someone does a selfless act worthy of someone's true and unrelenting adoration.
I am completely and utterly broken and damaged. I feel sort of guilty about it. I feel like I am not deserving because somewhere along the lines my heart got ripped out and abandoned in the street. I can hardly conceive that it is repairable, however I think that my intentions in the whole scheme of things are an effort to retrieve what was lost.
I also find that I am markedly mistaken of the origin and nature of these thoughts. Although I am only being deceptive to myself.
Also I find my mind creepily linked. It should be no surprise to me that I would have such a connection to this very basic location. However, every time I write, I find myself absolutely delighted with the certainty of this matter.
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume."
Much to everyone's surprise, including my own mind you, I really do have a thing for romance. I have a thing for every silly, stupid, girly, romantic movie in the world. It is not the entirety of the movie that I adore, but a select few moments throughout, where my heart actually aches. I have known and understood for an infinitely long time that life never truly operates under these assumptions. But the single moments are more than possibility, they are based on something real. For every second of every day someone does a selfless act worthy of someone's true and unrelenting adoration.
I am completely and utterly broken and damaged. I feel sort of guilty about it. I feel like I am not deserving because somewhere along the lines my heart got ripped out and abandoned in the street. I can hardly conceive that it is repairable, however I think that my intentions in the whole scheme of things are an effort to retrieve what was lost.
I also find that I am markedly mistaken of the origin and nature of these thoughts. Although I am only being deceptive to myself.
Also I find my mind creepily linked. It should be no surprise to me that I would have such a connection to this very basic location. However, every time I write, I find myself absolutely delighted with the certainty of this matter.