15 ways to keep a relationship working

ph: stressed chocolate

thoughts?

doubts

ph: tamedblossom


love can be so complicated, and i wrote this letter with need of advice from a loving friend across the sea in the city of love, paris. not only does she understand my relationship because she helped introduce me and my boyfriend, but she is my best friend and waited six years for the man she loved to love her back.

so, several times we have both discussed what its like knowing the person you are going to marry, with your knowledge unwavering, and mine much more unsure. regardless, i have been pushing through this long distance relationship, because crying to myself about how much i miss chris makes me realize how important he is to me and how much i love him. however, not a
day goes by that i don't think about the possibility that i am "wasting" time on him, because technically we can't be together till he goes to grad school/i graduate aka two years from now. and i wonder if he is the person i am going to marry, because if so, then all this pain is worth it and i know god has a plan for this. i won't deny the fact that being long distance has taught me things about him that i never knew seeing him daily, and its forced us to use words more than ever before. but i also can't deny the pain, the annoyance when i see other couples together, and my doubts which only just worsened now and caused me to write this all out.

so today, i was talking about marriage at kirsten's house with her and larry. and she asked me about what chris always says if it ever comes up, and truth be told, he always says "ew" when his friends get married at young ages. ok, yes he's a boy who hasn't walked around dreaming of the
perfect wedding dress and the playlist to dance the magical night away ending with flying lanterns like in tangled, (ok that's me) buttt i mean i know he's a family guy. so tonight when we were skyping i asked him how old he thinks he will be when he gets married. and he said "i don't know, it depends on the situation", and i said that i expect myself to be young. as we talked about this he said that getting married would stop him from doing things he wanted to, and so naturally i wanted to know what these things were and he said going to grad school. now this just sent me for a loop because i always envisioned our engagement beginning after i graduate and
ending shortly after ( i hate long engagements as you know). i don't even know what to think now, i was like why can't you be married during graduate school, and he said that 80% or some number similar of marriages end during law school and he never would want to be a part of that. ok that's nice that he thinks ahead - but this puts me out three additional years...

most people would respond with, so what if you know then its worth the wait. but that's five-six years from now. thats a lifetime away, and who is to say that we'll even be the same people then. and i know its dumb for me to sit here planning my life away but i can't help it. life is too short to
be anything but happy and with the person you love. so i guess i'm just asking for your thoughts on this subject, if being faithful through the pain is going to be worth it in your opinion. it was weird cause i prayed about it in church the other day, and that was my answer - faithful through
the easy and hard times. but the thing is, as clear as that answer was, i still question this future plan. shouldn't i already know if he is "the one"? i feel as though you should just know, and frankly i can see myself married to him, but i also have doubts. and i always say that anything less than a yes is a no.

love across the atlantic.

boring things

ph: weheartit

there is hope

ph: weheartit

I wanted to tell my little love story to you guys, to tell you there is hope to get the one you always wanted. That love comes along when you least expect it to, and that all this cliché stuff is absolutely true. Your heart can skip a beat. You are able to get weak in your knees. You can fall in love at young age, and the feelings can stay there forever.

I met this guy 5 years ago. He was a classmate of my brother, and I fell in love the first time I saw and talked to him. He has this brown curly hair, and those deep and kind green eyes. Everywhere I went I was hoping to see him. I always took an extra look in the mirror before I left the house. We kept on talking. We actually never stopped talking to each other.

A few more years passed by, and I dated some guys during those years. But my heart still skipped a beat when I saw him. The one I always dreamed to called boyfriend. I never stopped hoping. To make a long story short, I fell in love with his best friend, but we really never worked out, and my feelings for the other one never went away.

Six moths ago we finally started hanging out. We were sneaking around for different reasons. One; I had a past with his best friend. Two; I was three years younger than him. Three; my parents would never accept it. But we were hanging out as often as we could, and we both fell in love. My parents told me they didn’t want me to be with him, but he never gave up on me or us.

Now I finally can call him my boyfriend. I have never been more in love. My parents are happy for us, and I’ve never felt like this. I am really happy, and I feel like this could last forever. I love how he hugs me out of the blue, how he gives me those soft kisses on my cheeks, and how great he is telling me he loves me. I miss him every time I see him drive away in his blue car, after driving me home at night. I love the smell of his cologne, and how it sticks to my shirt, or sticks to my pillow after sleeping over.

This story has made me realise that love is strong, no matter what.

I love you S
Love, I

no one else

ph: Daniela Alexandra + ellemenoh

norway

ph: weheartit


I visit this page every week to read about love across oceans, love that has been lost, love that lasts a lifetime and love that never will be forgotten. Today I want to share a different kind of love with you – the love of my country in hard times. *

I have always considered my country the safest in the world. This was my little country where we didn’t need police in the streets, where we could play in the streets with no parents watching us, where we didn’t have to lock our doors and where we are so few people that every person is a brother and a friend. This all changed a few days ago.

Norway is changed forever. We will never get back the Norway we had before July the 22nd - this because we will never forget. We will never forget the day a man got onto the scout camp and killed over 60 young adults. We will never forget the children’s screams. We will never forget the tears of the parents. We will never forget the stories the victims have told us. We will never forget the ocean of flowers outside the church. We will never forget our crying king.

No one is left untouched. We all feel so much pain. We are all crying for our children. We are all in shock. We are all watching the lists of names in the newspaper; names of children that was taken away from us in such a tragic way. It is so easy to hate the murderer. Somehow, it makes the sorrow easier to hate the man that caused all this. However, in the middle of all this, our prime minister, our king, our children and the children that survived the attack tell us not to hate.

All this darkness has taught us the value of love. Muslims are arranging concerts where over 200 000 people gather together in their hopelessness. Professional singers publish songs that they give out for free to show their support. Tour the France has a minute of silence in respect of the lost lives. Candles are lid in every window. Strangers cry on strangers’ shoulders.

This is my safe, little country and one person is not going to change that. When one person shows this much hate, we are going to show him how much love we are able to show together. I don’t think there is any better way to punish this murderer in than having his actions bringing us closer together.

Norway will never be the same again. The pain will never go away, and the tears will not be wiped away. They will be there and remind us of what we have sacrificed. It will remind that love is the only reasons to hate. The terrorist have taken a few of our roses, but can never stop spring from coming.

I could not have been more proud to call myself a Norwegian, hence the circumstances.
Thank you for all the support coming from all over the world!

*reader submission

you caught me

ph: salva lopez + unknown

my dad, my hero

ph: miguel angel candiotti

This entry is dedicated to my dad and he will never read it. Sad thing.*

When I was 16 I had to write an essay in school about the person I admire the most. So I wrote about my dad. My dad is not famous, nor is he rich or talented. He is not a scientist or a professor. But he is the best man in my personal world even if he doesn’t know. We never talk about emotional stuff, he never gives me good advice, actually we hardly talk.
When my dad was young he was a biker. Motorbikes were his lifestyle, his passion, his love. But this love became his doom. A few years before he met my mother, he had a terrible accident. He was actually supposed to be dead but somehow he was strong enough to survive. I know that he was in a coma and it was still not sure if he’d make it. But after 2 long months and 2 days he finally woke up.
He had millions of traumas. He couldn’t move or speak. The doctors had to use skin of his thigh for surgery on his arm. They said he would never be able to walk again. It was so sad. My dad slowly became a healthy man - I mean he slowly learned how to speak again but at the beginning, my uncle even had to take him to the toilet and wipe his bottom. He was as helpless as a newborn baby.
After a few months he said to himself: I won’t spend my life in a wheelchair. So he went to a rehabilitation centre where he fought for the strength of his legs. It took him 2 years to learn how to walk again. He still limps. His brain works slower, too.
Well, after a few years of deep depression my dad met my mother. She was visiting her cousin in Germany, whose husband was one of my dad’s friends. They immediately fell for each other - he took her to an Italian restaurant in his red VW - my mom was so impressed because at this time normal people in the Philippines had no cars. They talked English and my mom told me that my dad had a terrible German accent. But he was gentle and sensitive, caring and funny so she couldn’t forget him back in the Philippines. And a few months after they had met for the first time, my mom decided to move to Germany to spend her life with him. Best decision ever, if you ask me.
However, my dad told me once that he fought because of this little thought:

What if I have my own family one day? What if I have kids? Who will teach them how to ride a bicycle?

I cried so much when he told me this.
Today, my dad is helpless again - not as helpless as after his accident, but he needs my mom. As his brain works much slower than the brains of healthy people, he is not able to work. My mom is the main earner in our family. I know that he hates it, it must be very hard for him, so he does little jobs at his friend’s garage (my dad was a mechatronic engineer). He is slowly turning into a mentally handicapped person. That makes me so sad. He forgets things easily, he stutters a lot. It hurts so much to watch my daddy get weaker and weaker.

I love my dad. Sometimes I think he doesn’t know that because we fight pretty often. We hardly get along. My mother always says: I can’t believe that you wanted to marry your dad when you were in kindergarten. In fact, people wouldn’t belive it. I’m a total bitch and I hate myself for being like this sometimes. I’m so impatient when I try to explain something to him and he doesn’t understand immediately. My dad often has to fight my bad temper.

Last Sunday I watched a German TV show. There was an old man who was left completely alone after the death of his wife and the death of his beloved dog. And I asked myself: What will happen to my dad if my mom dies? I know I shouldn’t think about stuff like this. I started to cry.

Well Dad, I know you will never read this but here is my apology. I want you to know that no matter what I say, I love you. I admire you for your love. I want to thank you for showing me how to ride a bicycle. And thanks for the bicycle tours to the ice cream parlor. I’m sorry for saying you’re a bad cook - you just shouldn’t experiment with spice, that’s all. I want to thank you for watching my sister and me riding horses when we were young. I’m sorry for all the dreams you had that will never come true and I’m sorry for saying that your dreams will never come true. I promise that one day - when the time is right - I will do anything to make your number 1 wish come true: seeing the world with mom.

When I was 3, you were my hero. When I was 6, you were my hero. When I was 13, you were my hero - you held my hand while I got a dental brace and after that, you told me I was still beautiful. When I had a car accident at 15, you were my hero. When I had financial problems at 18, you were my hero.

You’ll always be my hero.

*reader submission

when you smile

ph: weheartit + weheartit

miles between

ph: weheartit

He left me - again. No he didn't break up with me or leave me for another girl, he left me for another passion of his, traveling. I always knew that even when he came back he would leave again because it's in his blood, it's what comes naturally and passionately to him. When we first started dating he went abroad for 6 months to another country. Even though we had just started dating before he life, it was the hardest 6 months I have ever endured in my life. But we fell in love, the old fashioned way. Through letters and e-mails (not so old fashioned), but everything we did had passion behind it. We didn't touch for 6 whole months. Imagine not being able to have the person you love give you a simple hug because there was literally 7,000 miles between you.

When he returned we were inseparable, but I knew he would eventually leave again. Like I said before, it's in his blood, it's part of his make up. He's a free spirit and someone I look up to. He has brought out qualities in myself that I could never imagine having and that is just a simple reason of many why I'm so crazy about him. He left a week ago to follow his dream and move across country to California. No plans, no expectations, just a dream he has always had.

And what about me? I'm back on the East Coast. As much as I want to scream at him and tell him he's selfish, ask why he left me again, tell him to stay, I won't. Because what kind of girlfriend would I be if I did that? What kind of girlfriend does not support their soul mates dreams even if it does mean being a little selfish? Everything is supposed to happen for a reason and Fate works in way that are unthinkable. I know in my heart that it will work out the way it is supposed to. We fell in love through distance, we fell in love through struggle. We've been together for almost 2 years now and I still get butterflies when I think about touching him again.

I look up to him for what he does and how he does it. At times, I may think he is stubborn and almost impossible but that does not make me love him any less. Struggles make you stronger whether you realize it or not. This time I know it will work even better than it did the last.

unfinished business

ph: Amber Marie Chavez + agni

just hold on

ph: postsecret

I was so content before I met you.

Yes I was lost, bleeding, hurt beyond comprehension, blind to my own pain. But still, I was happy. And now you come into my life and change everything. Make me feel again. Make me feel so much all the time that I don’t know what to do with myself. Make me miss you, want to be around you. You make me feel like this stupid little girl when I have lived through lives of hurt, when I’m around you it just all goes away. When I’m around you I feel safe. When I’m around you I’m comfortable, I don’t worry. I feel the pain leave, I feel my wounds and see the scars and they don’t matter as much. We can’t be together now and we’ve agreed to be friends. You don’t know this, but I’m giving you six months. Six months to see if you can be the man I need. I’m falling for you and I have to hold myself back because you’re not ready for a girl like me. If you want someone in your bed, to get you through the night, then that’s not me. I’ve seen this beautiful hopeless romantic side of you. I know you truly desire the same things I do. Then why did you have to kiss me last night? Why do I have to set you up for failure? Why do I not know how to control myself around you? I want you to succeed. I’m going to try harder to not give you mixed messages, I will be better. I promise. You're broken, and so am I. But when I'm around you I don't feel as bad. I know we could be extraordinary together instead of just ordinary apart. Just hold on babe, hold on for me. I can get you through you're pain and you can help me with mine.

And I hope you mean everything you say. You keep saying these wonderful things that make me so happy. Your promises of long walks, deep talks over coffee, wanting to become my best friend before we consider dating. I hope you mean all these things. I have a lot of hopes for you. And all I can do is sit back and pray. Pray that you are the right person for me, pray that I’ll have the strength to be there for you and to let you go if I have too.

i'm yours

ph: weheartit + weheartit

sorting through the rubble of our relationship

ph: weheartit

My shrink told me to write you a letter, to tell you how I feel about all the shit that’s gone down the past few months. That alone is embarrassing. I can see you in our kitchen, just sitting at that dilapidated kitchen table you picked up on the side of the road and so lovingly restored, just sitting there with a cigarette between your fingers, shaking your head and taunting me: A fucking shrink, Louise? A fucking shrink?

Yes, I need a fucking shrink. I’m not like you; I can’t just pluck a few cords on a guitar, drink straight tequila and deal. I need to talk. Most relationships are based upon talking, but ours was never like that. I bet I couldn’t fill a one-subject notebook with all the words that passed between us while we were together. Yet we somehow knew more about each other than most people. Like I know that when you were 12, you were making out with Georgia Flannery behind a 7-11 and her father caught you. I also know that he chased you back to your house wielding his belt above his head, swinging it just close enough that the buckle made a whoosh sound next to your ear.

But that’s a verbal story. I could fill a five-subject notebook with stories about what goes on behind your eyes. I could publish novels based solely on the way you’d kiss me in the morning before I was even fully awake and the journeys your fingers made up and down my naked back. Ours was a love based on moments strung together by hand with emotions, like those ropes of popcorn we decorated our plastic red Christmas tree with in the middle of summer.

It was the most fulfilling, realistic, complete relationship I’d ever been it. It was also heart wrenching, twisted, blemished, rage-filled and nauseating. There were nights I would cry myself to sleep because I didn’t know where you were, where we were, what we were, what you wanted us to be or how we were going to pay our bills. But then I’d wake up with your curly hair in my face and know, somehow, that this was right. That we’d make it work, fill in the holes and sew up the tears. It would work. It had to work.

The way we met wasn’t glamorous or romantic like you read in thick paperback novels. I worked at an ice cream place on the boardwalk; you loved medium vanilla cones with rainbow sprinkles. The first time you stopped by, I fell in love with your big, crooked fingers that floated in front of your chest, waiting for your change. The second time you stopped by, I fell in love with your witty, sarcastic humor that I hoped you were putting on for me. The third time you stopped by, you asked for my number and waited around till closing. We drank 40 ounces on the beach. Our first date. We barely spoke, a foreshadowing of the relationship to come, but we spent the whole night lying on our backs and tracing constellation. Every once in a while, I’d feel those big crooked fingers wiggling through the sand, hesitating on whether or not to take the plunge and lace between mine. You told me you dabbled in photography and that you’d love to take my picture. I figured you were either a pornographer or the love of my life. I gave you a chance.

Our second date. You picked me up in your yellow Chevrolet Caprice from the 70’s that you had found on the side of the road and breathed new life into. I had a big Christmas bag filled with yellowing lace slips and oversized loafers. We drove to a junkyard and I changed in your backseat while you sat on the hood and smoked a cigarette. We spent the day taking pictures: me on a couch that was growing springs, me in a rusted out pickup truck, me holding an umbrella with holes like Swiss cheese.

With every click of the camera’s shutter I felt bits and pieces of my soul transplanting themselves in you. I was scared out of my mind, but I was drunk off the very idea of you. I knew in that instant that I would never be whole again if you ever left me. The truth is, no one truly understand that feeling until they’re standing in front of the person who has so neatly and completely embezzled their heart. No, not just their heart. Their entire being.

We were inseparable. It was only a matter of weeks before I moved into your place. Of course you would live in a trailer. It would be impossible for you to even think about maintaining a home. But I didn’t care. Our lives quickly meshed into one another, and before I knew it I was eating mashed potatoes with hot sauce, like you, and you were clipping your toe nails over the toilet, like me. We bought a cat and named him Tiddly Winks. He slept on a doll’s bed next to ours. You and I fell into a routine. I quit my job at the ice cream stand and started working at an antique store in Point. All day, I’d sort through old dresses and jewelry and spatulas and coloring books. I started taking old black and white photos of babies in basinets and big Italian weddings, framing them and hanging them around our house. We pretended they were our family, since we really had none: Aunt Madge, cousin Hector, grandma Natty. But we didn’t need a family. We had each other.

You got work at a furniture store and worked on restorations. I’d love rubbing your callused fingers after a long day at work. I loved you, and you loved me. You spent your days smoothing over cracks and imperfections in tables and chairs. But it was only a matter of time before our own cracks and imperfections started to show. We tried to smooth them over. But they were a little more stubborn. Your paychecks were minimal, which didn’t make sense because you worked 15-hour days. The nights we used to spend together watching Land of the Lost and drinking white wine started to dwindle. You’d come home, shower and go out. I didn’t think to ask you where you were going. Sometimes when you’d come home, your lips would be chapped. I tried to smooth over the cracks. I loved you so much.

The first night I woke up to you cooking crack in the kitchen, I wanted to die. Your eyes had been looking distant, and I wanted you to love me again. But you were just sitting in the kitchen, cooking crack. Next to the pan of uneaten lasagna I had made for dinner. I felt stupid, standing in your Metallica t-shirt and bunny slippers. Like I was in middle school again, and we were watching that sex-ed video, and everyone seemed to know what a period was and how a penis gets hard before sex, and I didn’t. You looked at me and gave me a scary smile. Your teeth were yellow. I went back to sleep.

Things got worse. I’d come home to the sickly scent of burnt Brillo pads and know. We’d make love, but it wasn’t like before. It was violent and painful. Sometimes afterwards, I’d look down at the twisted Superman underwear around my ankles and feel like a rape victim. Since I couldn’t hate you, I started to hate myself. I still loved you, and I hated myself for loving you.

I was alone, watching Land of the Lost with white wine the first night you hit me. I don’t even remember the reasoning, but it was quick and I saw streaks of silver. My cheek swelled. I left it like that. A battle wound. I deserved it. I deserved it for loving you. And it made me hate myself more.

The day I knew our relationship had to end was the day I had to charge American cheese to my Visa. The old lady behind the counter looked at me with sad eyes that seemed to say I know. Looking into her eyes, I felt no self-pity. All I could think about was how I never wanted my eyes to look old and tired like that.

I came home and made you grilled cheese, like you’d asked me to. It was one of those stretches of three days where your normal self would return. You’d be loving and attentive and you’d fix the kitchen table chairs you’d broken on your last binge. We’d re-hang the pictures of our imaginary family that’d crashed to the ground the last time you threw me into a wall. I’d make us Hamburger Helper and you’d make love to me like old times. Watching you eat your sandwich from across the table, I started to think, maybe, just maybe, you’d stay this time. I’d help you stay off the drugs, we’d move out of a trailer and into a cottage on the beach, we’d have a babies and name them after J.D. Salinger characters. Life would be good.

With a mouth full of grilled cheese, you looked across the table and said I love you.

I packed up and moved out that night. You were asleep with Tiddly Winks.

It’s been a month. You haven’t tried to look for me. Or if you have, you just haven’t found me yet. Maybe you didn’t even realize I’d left. Maybe you finally overdid it with the drugs. All I know is, I still love you. And I don’t hate myself for it anymore. I know that you love me, too. Maybe one day you’ll come back for good. Maybe the drugs will end. If that day ever comes, I want be here waiting for you. My shrink says that’s not a healthy plan, but I don’t care. I’m perfectly content with spending my days sorting through the rubble of our relationship, wondering what you saw that night on the boardwalk. And why you lost sight of that.

I love you, too.

Love,
Louise

every day

ph: weheartit

i don't know what to think anymore.

ph: weheartit

i have 66 le love images saved, and too many stories to count. they all remind me of him. the good and the bad. the thoughts that go through my mind all day everyday are written in those little pictures. i love him more than anything, but my insecurities have made me have to convince myself that he loves me. i am always questioning it. even when he says it, he doesn't say it enough. then you wonder, well what if my insecurities are right. what if he really doesn't love me. so you get even more insecure. but maybe the insecurities are caused because i have always been 100% he has always been 50. maybe its because i have sacrificed relationships with family and friends trying to protect and defend our relationship when he doesn't even want one in the first place. in the beginning of our relationship he was perfect, almost a year later and it has disintegrated into "we are together without the title," i don't want to be tied down," "relationships have obligations and responsibilities and i don't want that" and most of all, "can we talk about this later?" throughout the secrets and the lies, i have ignored it all just to be with him. i kept my ignorance so i could pretend everything was perfect and he wasn't lying to me.

right now he has been going to these christian conferences. he called me and said that he has changed so much already and that he loves me but he wants to "renew our love" he wants to forget about the past because he has been manipulating me and hurting me without me even knowing it. but i have known it. i have had that feeling but i chose not to listen to it. he hung up. leaving me with 3 days of making up what his lies could be in my head. having imaginary conversations with him about how it might play out and thinking that maybe he has been cheating, maybe he has been doing the drugs he knows i hate. and he is going to stare me in the eyes and tell me that he has changed and lets forget the past. he is going to expect me to believe him. he comes home from these conferences in 2 days and i don't know what to think anymore.

do you forgive almost a year of lies in hopes of a trustworthy future with the one you love? or do you give up the insecurities you know will follow because you think he is going to do it all over again...

i love you with all my boobs.

ph: weheartit + weheartit

lol

in like with you.

ph: weheartit

The first night we met, I was automatically comfortable around you. It was like I had known you for a long time. It wasn’t awkward, and whenever we had both stopped talking, we didn’t feel the need to fill the silences with stupid small talk. The first time we kissed was like one of those cheesy romantic kisses in chick flicks. I want to puke rainbows as I close my eyes and reminisce, but here we go:

We were lying on my bed, watching tv, when I felt your fingers run up and down my arm and hand. You pulled me close, causing my hair to fall in front of my face. I smiled at you, and as you smiled back, you brushed my hair to the side and tucked it behind my ear. You put your hand behind the back of my head and pulled me even closer to kiss me.

Was it cheesy and cliché? Absolutely. Was it perfect? Absolutely.

I really like you, but sometimes I can’t help but remember that time you disappeared from my life for 2 months with no explanation or anything. We just had started hanging out a lot, and then nothing. I was hurt and embarrassed, because I couldn’t figure out what I did to you to cause you to not talk to me anymore. I felt so stupid for letting my guard down around you. For those 2 months of not having you in my life, my heart dropped into my stomach whenever I’d pass a car that looked just like yours. I felt pathetic and sickened that I still missed you. I missed the smell of you, the way you would pull me close just to look at me, how you would run your fingers up and down my back as I would fall asleep in your arms, how your beautiful hazel eyes would crinkle and light up whenever you smiled, seeing a text from you during the day just to see how my day was going. I missed all of that, and so much more during that time. Eventually I thought of you less as time went on, and I accepted the fact that you were pretty much just another guy passing through in my life. I deleted every trace of you from my life, and moved on. Even though I still thought of you at times, I was honestly ok with it.

But guys have a funny way of worming their way back into your life once you’ve worked so hard to forget about them…

You’re back now. And yes, I brushed it off. Even though you apologized multiple times and I know you’re truly sorry, it doesn’t mean that you can pull that again, because if it were to happen again, I’m done with you. The reason you stopped talking to me was because you were afraid that your baggage would make me not want to talk to you anymore, but here I am. I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere. You make me happy. In fact, I’m the happiest I’ve been in awhile. You tell me all the time how much you really like me and all I can manage is to smile and blush like a freakin’ 6 year old girl. There’s still so much I don’t know about you, but I love learning things about you. Falling asleep in your arms makes the crappiest day into a good day. The way you dance like a fool in my kitchen when I make you grilled cheese at 12:30 at night makes me like you so much more. I could go down the endless list, but you get the picture. I don’t know if you’re my soul mate, but I can’t imagine my life without you. In love? No. In like? Yes, very much so.

-S

or you

ph: nirrimi + unknown

what do I do now?

ph: wehearit

I love love love your blog and love looking and reading all the little details, especially the comments underneath, it is such a great way to know your not alone sometimes and that everyone goes through these tricky situations. My current situation is a very long story, and a rather complicated one too. I feel I am so out of control and stuck and like everything has gone not the way I planned, and I have no idea what to do. What is real love? Why does the heart trick me? This is my story ....

When I was a 14 I fell for a boy older than me ( he was 18), we hung out for a few months one summer before his friends started to give him stick for us hanging out. Nothing sexual ever happened between us, although I was sure he was the one. He told me one day that nothing could happen between us because of our age and, what I see as selfless, he said I should go on and live my life and that maybe one day in the future when timing was better and age was not a problem we could be together. I was heart broken, that was that, done, gone, he stopped replying to my texts and calls. I was gutted and it took me sleepless nights of tears to get over him.

My darling lovely boyfriend, we met at school when I was 16, and it was fairy tale love from the start. Nothing kept us apart, it really was the best relationship. Honesty, friendship, communication, love. My first. It was amazing. He made me so happy, he adored me. It was perfect. Then we grew up, as childhood sweethearts, and now in my 20's I have the natural nagging feeling I get when he annoys me, or takes me for granted. After 6 years its not the same as it was. Same old story, my heart wanting to let go, his heart not letting me go. I feel trapped. But he is so sweet to me, he is so good to, too good that it makes it hard to want to end it, even though I feel trapped and wanting to fly my wings on my own without his loving restriction.

And then out of nowhere 'he' is back in my life, my friend from all those years ago, suddenly the chemistry is back, its so good, those butterflies which i hadn't experienced in years were back, with more force than ever. It was thrilling. But i made a mistake, a terrible mistake, not knowing what my head and my heart want I broke the relationship trust, I made an error in action, but not once, but twice, on two different occasions. And now i've become 'that' person. The person everyone in a relationship hates, the person we all think of in disgust, because I allowed myself to get caught up in the moment with an old flame during a rocky patch in my relationship.

What do I do now? Do i cut him out my life, my first real love who I never got to have anything with because of bad timing and age difference. He says he's sorry for putting me in this position, and that he'll respect whatever I decide. He hasn't put any pressure on me to break up with my boyfriend.

My darling on the other hand, had no idea, he knows that i've been a bit of a mess with deciding what i want in life, but he has stood by me waiting for me to come back and be his sweetheart. On some occasions I am on his sweetheart, not how we used to be, but we have an amazing history together which I never want to give up, or destroy or harm in anyway ... but i suppose I have already broken it haven't I ?

What do I do? i'm so split, one part of me says cut out the old flame and don't ruin what I have, and what could be amazing for a bit longer OR break off what clearly hasn't worked for along time, and take things slow with this old flame and see what happens. I don't feel like i deserve the love of my boyfriend, but i don't know if i can handle dealing with his broken heart on top of mine, it might kill me, i will be a mess.

Do i come clean about my mistakes ? Or carry on as normal ?

I've been so lost and confused for so long now, i am moving abroad for a year in a few months to get some head space, drastic I know, but that's what it has come down to. I just don't know if i can wait till then to decide what to do ...

a lost little soul x

i'm selfish

ph: weheartit + weheartit

is it possible

ph: weheartit

let's skip the charades
you're seeing right through me anyway
can we just speak plain
we're playing for the same team

I never knew I could fall so hard for my best friend. We both knew it could potentially ruin our friendship but we still gave in to the explosive need to be with each other. For a long time we basked in our own fantasy land of sneaking around our other friends and making sure no one knew what was really going on behind the closed doors. It was exciting, addicting and nothing has ever felt so right. You said things to me that I wish I knew earlier, we became closer than we've ever been. But then the summer before our senior year in college came around and I was glass half full of possibilities for our future together and also glass half empty of losing everything we built together the last 3 months. I knew with the time apart, you would have time to hit realization that not only you have been with you best friend but also someone of your own sex, that I might lose you to the social stigmas I always wanted to protect you from. Is it possible that we can be each others one and only both as a best friend and a lover? Is it possible that you may also have feelings for me but are too scared to express them? I am not willing to lose our friendship over this risk of love, but I know if we take the risk together we can work through anything and have both through each other. We just need to talk, communicate like we always have...but I haven't heard from you in a few weeks. This never ending battle in my head tells me to reach out to you but also combating is the idea that I will push you away with my persistence.

For you I’d just be there. Someone to talk to, share things with, confide in…someone to ask you how your day was and you’d be comfortable enough to share, without fear of ridicule or disinterest. Someone to cuddle with and share intimate moments with, someone you will always feel safe with. We can play together, laugh together, and cry together. Know when you want to be alone and when you want someone to hold you close. Understand your limits and know where to draw the line. Know your friends and accept them all as my friends. I would trust you and be trustworthy enough for you. You will have no fears with me, live dangerously and make everyday an adventure. Live life and love it, have no regrets. Be alone and never be lonely. Passion kindness, honesty, happiness, sincerity and respect will be everyday words. Hatred, sadness, contempt and hypocrisy will never come about. A million people in the world and I only have eyes for you. Wear your emotions on your sleeves and I will care for them as my own. Give me a smile and I will give you my whole. Be there for me and I’ll be there for you a thousand times over.

the best feeling

ph: weheartit + weheartit

scared I’m chasing nothing.

ph: weheartit

It’s not that I think you’re not important when you don’t have anyone, because I don’t. I truly don’t. I believe you can never really know what you want in someone else until you know yourself – completely and wholly - when you only have yourself to rely on. I know far too many people who are in relationships of comfort – because they don’t want to be alone. And it’s sad, because they rely so much on this social institution for validation. I am proud to say I have dealt with loneliness, and I’m not afraid of it. I am not afraid of my independence and I am not afraid of my own company. I am proud to say I have become a strong, level-headed person because I have had such a long time to consider myself and my surroundings and my feelings and my opinions with a clear head, one that is not muddled by the fog of a relationship and love and my heart. For these reasons I am glad it’s taken me this long to find someone, because I think when it happens, I’ll be able to handle it and make the most of it.

But fuck, sometimes I just get sick of being lonely. I get sick of having to rely on myself and my imagination for any kind of deeper mental or emotional stimulation. It’s getting to a point now where, I’ve had way too much time to think. My heart is forming cobwebs because the people I met, the experiences I’ve had so far, just aren’t cutting it. I think my imagination has had far too much time to become so specific in designing what my heart wants, I’m scared reality is just never going to compare. How can it? I never really gave it a chance. I’m torn between wanting only the best for myself and impatience. How much longer is it really going to take?

I feel like it’s impossible because I’ve made it impossible. I want magic. I want to feel such an intense pull towards someone it’s like our worlds just crashed into each other, changing them and me and everything I thought I knew. I want fireworks, and butterflies and magnetism, something tumultuous and huge and exciting and new. I want something to pull me out of myself and my head and my over-analysis and make me feel again, because I’ve forgotten. And I don’t think I can get it back on my own. But I’m scared I’m waiting out for a super unrealistic ideal that I’ve created for myself. I’m scared I’m chasing nothing. And every day it’s getting harder and harder to have faith in myself and everything I believe in.

r

HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!

ph: Ana Santos

hope you have a lovely holiday weekend!! be safe ♥