ahopelessromanticswritings

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

Gone are the preachers of wrath (unfinished)

My counselor says, "Napping is archaic" If drones are droning, then people are peopling. My toddlers are throwing egg yolks across the table but I don't care. I am napping. I'm still learning how to swim First you see what everyone else is doing: Breathe in? Check. Breathe out? Check. But following them seems so wrong and— following myself seems so right. “Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me.” People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. and I loved    and I loved        and I lost you. The blind man continues to stumble,                  falling,            falling,       into the past. ... It's 2017, sheeple. Wake the fuck up.

#I literally haven't touched this since November #it's probably never going to get finished so whatever

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

I’d say growing up with dark brown eyes is a universally difficult experience. You see, no one tries to look past the exterior. They only see "brown.” 

But I feel-- no, I know that you were able to see what no one else even tried to. You could see that my eyes were as beautiful as the blonde’s blue eyes, or the brunette’s green ones. I take a little more work than them, but I swear I’m worth it. On the surface, I’m plain, but when you get close--really close--you can see that there’s more than one color there. Under “brown,” there’s coffee, and gingerbread, and penny, and so many more colors that have never been discovered because nobody ever tried hard enough to find them.

But I’m worth it, I swear.

#6pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

To be honest, I'm not sure why I'm in love with you.

When I was young, I was told that there was no possible way I could be in love with someone because I was too young. High school relationships don't last, I know that, but what's the harm in finding that special someone to spend time with? I am of the belief that every single person is lonely, no matter how many friends they have. Most connections are shallow, and the ones that are real are forbidden by society.

Now I am older, with my parents on the brink of divorce, and I have realized something: that is exactly what love is. Love is what keeps us young; it's the energy that comes from the bond between you and someone you love. But it goes two ways. Unrequited love is a one way street--you blindly throw all your energy at someone (love is blind, after all) and hope they do the same. And when they don't, you die just a little bit inside because all your energy's been taken by this person who doesn't even know you exist.

I think I'm in love with you because you keep me young. Every time you smile that contagious smile of yours, I can't help but suppress the urge to laugh along. You remind me of a younger me before I was broken down--bubbly, cheerful, and always willing to have fun.

It's too bad that you could never like someone like me, though.

#ugh she's so cute but she'd never date me #11pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

I say I'm a hopeless romantic, but I can't fall in love when it comes to me.

"I'm sorry"

I'm sorry for leading you on, making you think that I felt the same way--I suppose it was only my fault for not seeing it earlier, the touch of your arm on mine casually disguised as a jostle from the sea of lovers we were in.

"I don't want it to end like this"

I don't want this--us--to end. Because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Growing up, I've always been lonely, and you changed that, even before I realized that someone like me could love someone like you.

"It's not you, it's me"

And please believe me, it really is. And I hate to ask, but believe me again. I really do love you. But someone like me could never love someone like you.

#I had a great idea and then it disappeared bc I was too lazy to get up and write it down #ugh #this is fhe shitpost that resulted #I should really write more #10pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

To the person I want to know for the rest of my life:

I don’t think I’ve said anything this childish in years but…

I want to be your friend.

Don’t take it in a weird way, just. I want to be your friend. Is that too much to ask? I’ve tried every way I know of starting conversations, but obviously none of them have worked, so here I am. Straight up telling you what I want out of, well, whatever we have right now. Strange, huh? How someone can take something they’d never say in person, and publish it online, where it’s at the disposal of anyone who happens to stumble across this strange place where I store my thoughts in progress.

You’re probably thinking, why is she telling me this? Normally she doesn’t even talk to me and now she’s writing a fucking love letter? Honestly, same. I wish I could talk to you. I really do. But it’s so difficult. I can’t even recommend this book that I know you’ll like. And I still remember your offer at the end of last year—“on a more personal note: are you ok?” I’ve been meaning to take it up—I really have—but it’s so difficult. And every time I think I’m gonna do it, I think about how you’re probably in just as bad of a spot as me—so I don’t.

I want to feel trustworthy again. People used to tell me everything, and now my best friend barely hangs out with me anymore. I guess I’m hoping for some sort of deal where I can tell you my problems and you can tell me yours. Knowing you though, it’s not gonna happen. Yet another reason why I keep putting off this whole talking thing. (also: social anxiety woot)

I want to be that person that you can go places with. I want to talk with you. I’ve seen your face light up when you’re talking about something you love. I want to do that with you. I want you to teach me about the things you love. I want to learn.

I am against the idea that love has to be romantic. I think that two people wanting each other’s company but nothing more warrants its own special kind of name. But when you tell someone that you love them, they automatically think it’s romantic. Love, by definition, is an intense feeling of deep affection. Yes, I admit it. If it wasn’t obvious yet, I have an intense feeling of deep affection for you. I realize it’s not normal, and I realize that once I graduate I’m never going to see you again. And that kills me, but through it all, I know I will survive because I am in love with you.

And I want to be your friend.

#9pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

Driving down the freeway at 80 miles an hour, one hand on the wheel, I look out the window and ponder. 

Driving down the freeway at 90 miles an hour, one knee on the wheel, hands fiddling with the radio.

Driving down the freeway at 100 miles an hour, hands barely on the wheel, the gas pedal pushed down all the way.

Driving down the freeway at 110 miles an hour, the steering wheel turning itself, speeding down the path to destruction.

#not sure what this is supposed to be #5pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

I find it interesting how miles run in the thousands like memories they fade away yet continue to build and build until there’s an explosion of some sort and you have to come in for repairs but you don’t start fresh; you come back, because that’s what makes up life, isn’t it?

along the way you meet others with their own miles in the hundreds, in the thousands, in the millions. they share their stories, you share yours. eventually you go your separate ways and that’s that.

I once met a man his transmission was almost out of miles. he told me something— ”follow the yellow brick road” instead, I chose to create my own path.

#4pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

I don’t quite remember when I met you for the first time I remember it was weird I was nervous Definitely nervous. Yes, that’s how I felt.

I don’t quite remember when I fell in love with you for the first time I remember it was unorthodox? I felt something for you and I know I shouldn’t have, that I should have just left it alone, but why? so I could die alone, regretting all the chances I never took, mistakes I always made? is it that hard to find love in a place like this?

I remember when you noticed me for the first time. I smiled. You smiled back. And I was thrilled. You gave me were something to hold on to.

So for the first time, I smiled.

#5pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

I think I’m in love.

Love is supposed to be a happy thing, right? so why is it decimating me? hurricanes make people stronger, united. so isn’t that what it should do to me? I think that love is an unnecessary distraction from the tragedy. yes, I am lonely. yes, I think I’m going to stay that way for the rest of my life. I think that more people are lonely than they let on. I think that those people deserve to be able to find other people to stop being lonely with. I once read that those who smile the most are usually the loneliest. is that true in your case? it’s definitely true in mine. I’m afraid to ask--one wrong move and it’s all over. I think humans will lead to their own demise. science has proven that. we put so much emphasis on humanity and society that we forget the reason why we’re actually here. we forget that we as humans are naturally sociable creatures, and all this loneliness is destroying us.

I think I’m going to leave this here. for when I finally get a life, for someone to find one day the same way I did. what would they think? what do you think? if you’re reading this, go ahead. tell me that you found this. because by that point I’ve barely been hanging on for a long time, and I’ll need every ounce of companionship I can get.

#10pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

Sometimes I think about killing myself.

I know it's wrong, but I try to see the beauty in it. the world would be better off without me. one less disappointment to the world, coming right up. I once read a comic about death: it showed suiciders (for lack of a better word) and others, and showed how their death affected the world. they said people who killed themselves would have to feel the pain they caused. that is crazy, isn't it? i think that death is just a concept created to scare everyone into fear of one grand idea. i think it worked once but not anymore.

I think we need something new.

everything is too controversial these days, even death itself. humans are like that; people aren't willing to let their ego go for the greater good. I have hope for the 21st century. I do not have hope for humanity.

#11pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

has anyone ever told you I enjoy the dark? not  really, those monsters don’t scare me

I don’t enjoy being in the dark. those are the monsters that scare me. They make it hard to talk and I don’t know what to say

#idk what this even is #4pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

I know this boy who walks the streets at night he is sure to never linger because the demons are chasing him and he is lost.

I know this girl who is lost in life she is chasing after this boy but he keeps running from her and she can’t catch up.

#3pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

Maybe this tiny little stage, with barely enough elbow room for me and everyone in my section, wasn’t where I belonged.

Thinking back, I’ve always felt like I’ve belonged where I was happy. But what is happiness? A way to get away from the bleak landscape that is my life? I’ve found that I could find it in the faintest of things. A flash of color in a black and white world. Sometimes that flash of color is a person. They don’t love me back.

un·re·quit·ed love /ənrəˈkwīdəd ləv/ -  A love that is one-sided, malnourished, and weak.

Seems about right. That’s what I am anyway, right? One-sided, malnourished, and weak.

#12am

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

But I’ve realized that I like you a lot and you’re so fucking cute and I want you to be mine but people like you don’t fall in love with people like me.

You look up I look away. You look up. I look away again. You look up again. This time I know I’ve been caught. So I stare. I stare into those beautiful blue eyes that I just can’t seem to get enough of.

I see your past. I can see the anguish at being taken advantage of. Being unappreciated. You think no one realizes how much you do. But you’re wrong. I see you. And I appreciate you.

I see who you are. I can see the kindness and the pain behind your poker face. I can see the things you’ve gone through. Everything you hide behind that smile. That damned smile.

I see you. And I love you. Just for the way you are. And I realize.

People like you don’t fall in love with people like me.

#5pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

[and] at 1:20 pm, the cicadas died out.

The world is ending.

EDIT: My world is ending.

It’s slowly getting darker. Strangers are crowding around me, waiting for the end to come. I’d like to get to know said strangers, but we both know that it will never happen. 

I’ve always sucked at starting conversations - it’s like I never know if a conversation topic will interest someone enough to keep a conversation going, even if I know them inside and out.

~The trees scream~

Some of the people around me have familiar faces. Why didn’t I recognize them earlier? The people I consider friends scare me; the strangers look more approachable.

And then there’s the people in between. The people that I smile at in the halls, that I get anonymous birthday gifts for, the reasons why I’m such a goddamn hopeless romantic. I mean, what’s the point? What’s the point of spending $5 and several weeks deciding on and getting a gift, only for it to be put to the side and forgotten?

#10pm

[ahopelessromanticswritings]

Every girl needs a good book. To get her through the bad parts, good parts, and everything in between.

They say a good book transports you to another, happier, place. Is that true? I've always thought that all they were good for was experiencing something that you could never experience yourself.

Now, I'm not doing this is true for all books. But think about it. Textbooks, storybooks, erotic novels... Okay. Maybe not that last one. But my point is that they can let you live as another person, and I think that's really fucking cool.

Even something as stupid as a blog post by one of your high school teachers from 12 years ago. He doesn't know it, but it changed my life. He gave me hope. Most authors don't realize how much they are helping their readers, and I find that depressing. But can I change it? No.

to be continued...(possibly)

#11pm