I’m still not sure. I still don’t know why I’m writing to you. Perhaps I’m not writing to you as much as I’m writing to the part of my past tied to you.
I write you completely whole and I feel a pleasure in being and my pleasure of you is abstract, like the instant.
Forwarded from 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡
I fell in love with her when she reminded me that miracles exist, then hopelessly in love with her when she reminded me that she’s the reason why I still believe that healing from my depression is possible. She makes me feel possible like there’s nothing I couldn’t do as long as I stay in the energy of her light. She makes me feel courageous, resilient, thankful, strong, and all the pleasant feelings that keep the sunshine in me in a state of glowing especially in darkness. She’s my healer, my greatest friend and my favorite person in the world which I now see in full brightness.
በመንገዴ
Wheres Venice, Lizzy?
I don't know, she's inactive for almost a whole month
Forwarded from 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡
It’s March 9th and I owe you a poem,
but all I can think is:
your hands and your mouth and
your hands and oh, god
your mouth.
but all I can think is:
your hands and your mouth and
your hands and oh, god
your mouth.
When has shrinking ourselves because of fear helped us? It has never helped. Fear is an emotion that should visit and when it leaves, it should make you brave. It should make you want to do more, create more and learn more. Fear is normal but when we let fear stay too long, it paralyses us.
"One heart is not connected to another through harmony alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through their wounds."
Listen, you have to pull it together.
There’s no use agonizing over mouths
that don’t want to open around your
name. Stop mourning the doors you left
locked and bolted. Put on the red dress.
Empty out your purse. Chase the anxiety
meds with gin. Leave your pens at home.
There’s no use agonizing over mouths
that don’t want to open around your
name. Stop mourning the doors you left
locked and bolted. Put on the red dress.
Empty out your purse. Chase the anxiety
meds with gin. Leave your pens at home.
I want to open each of the spaces hidden in your soul and immerse myself in all the secrets that you keep; to know you from end to end and explore all the feelings and thoughts that make up your being; to be able to paint your portrait with closed eyes, not with my hands but with my heart and have you with me so that neither time nor distance, failed thieves, can take from me your essence, which I merge with mine and so, with every breath, I make you infinitely mine, at the same time that I become infinitely yours.
go through this hell until you reach the love of spring, lavish, sweet and overflowing