Kendragarden
Why aren't humans more patient in life? We never "stop to smell the roses." Float with the leaves in the autumn, dance in the rain in the spring. Shine with the sun in the summer. Fall in love with the snow flakes in your hair. This is a beautiful place if you look around. Not everywhere is bad, and I like to see the good.
I may not write like it sometimes but sometimes, I just have to feel. You just have to get it out of your head. Into others' ears isn't usually the best place. You have to hear this, you have to hear that. I don't want to hear at all. I just want to let it out of my head through my fingertips.
I am writing break up letters to my
past and love letters to my future.
I like to talk about my dreams when nobody cares, and be able to see them again through words.
Follow your dreams.
Follow mine.
-
The last time you were here, you left your scent in my room, on my bed. Every time I am about to fall asleep at night, and the day has drained and exhausted me from all my emotion, I have forgotten you for a moment, then I remember. And guilt is weighing on my heart heavily for all the pain I caused you. I’m truly sorry and you’ll never know.
-
I hear songs we used to sing together. Songs we used to sing to each other.
The town I travel through has memories of us imprinted all over it.
Every home I visit, every place I pass, I see us. I see memories of us.
It burns every time and I choke up as I try to drive in a straight line while I blink past all my tears that flood my face over and over again.
Memories of you burn so badly.
I miss you so much. More than words could ever say.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to live without you.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to live. -
I understand, I guess.
I don’t know if I could ever love anyone as broken as I am either.
I don’t know if I’m capable of loving anyone anymore for that matter.
I don’t even love myself. Hell, I don’t even like myself.
I’ve screwed up too much. Nobody wants someone who they have to put the pieces back together for.
Perfect prince you would never be caught dead with the likes of me.
I wish I could get over you… -
We can pretend that we cry for each other.
We can pretend that we miss the way our hips would sway and our feet would walk together in sync.
We can pretend that everything between us was completely normal.
We tried to bring things between us back down to earth like our love was from some foreign place we’ve never heard of.
But truly, we are broken. Shattered, actually.
And there’s no way we could bring us together even to form mosaic pieces, forming together making us one and beautiful once again.It’s completely ruined.
You and I both know, our colors don’t match.
They say ”opposites attract”.
But how opposite do you have to be where it just won’t combine anymore? -
I don’t think about you any less just because you pushed me away.
I don’t care about you any less just because you said I fill my life with boys.It’s true, I suppose.
I try desperately to fill up this eternal empty hole you left. With men.
Men I probably wouldn’t date otherwise. Men I wouldn’t hang out with if my life were how it used to be.
These are men who don’t even fit my previous standards.
They are just… men.
I feel no need to continue a relationship further. Why try and get married anymore?
Put up a wall and you don’t get hurt by them again…
So I just search, laugh, plaster my fake smile as I daze off into memories of what you and I used to be while I’m sitting by whatshisname.
He’s nice. Funny. So not my type though. YOU were my type.
But when I’ve screwed up, dried up, messed up so many times, why bother with trying to even FIND someone, let alone be with them, who was as wonderful as you.
I can just fill my life with the guys who are just as imperfect as I have become.
I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve anymore. Time after time, I fell into ignorance after your heart and got shut down so many times. So many wasted tears over you.
And I still care. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?They cuss and smoke and drink and play their video games. They’re gross and selfish.
Okay, not all of them.
But as many imperfect qualities I can spot in a matter of an hour of knowing them, I see a male mirror image of me.
What’s the use in trying to be “on top” anymore?Nobody will ever be you.
It’s pointless to search for a random romance. I search for different things to hide the scars you left inside. -
Quote reblogged from {À cœur vaillant rien d’impossible}
Let’s face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren’t invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren’t sweet, are meat. We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce and hammers don’t ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices? Doesn’t it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn’t preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?
You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm goes off by going on. English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn’t a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.
(via -sorry) -
Yesterday in walmart, my friend and I were walking down the aisle and these two wild boys were running towards us. Their mom was behind them and said, “I told you to stop running! You almost hit her baby.”
I laughed out loud. -
40 Weeks He could have come a week ago because my doctor told me we could induce if I liked but I chose to go natural after doing my research. Not wanting to end up having to get a c section or other complications and since I didn’t need it for any medical reason, I didn’t want to risk it. Although, now it seems like a better and better idea. I got NO sleep last night. I woke up around 3 and couldn’t go back to sleep to save my life until almost seven. I relocated several times and nothing.
Mom says it’s my body getting used to little sleep but why can’t I just deal with that when the time comes and get my rest now?!How far along? 40 weeks exactly.
Total Weight Gain/Loss: Almost 60 lbs. YIKES!
Maternity Clothes? Size medium, everything. Mostly I just wear large mens v necks and track shorts.
Stretch-marks? Lots. And they itch worse than any itch I have ever endured.
Sleep: I don’t see much of it.
Movements: He is head down and moves back and forth and kicks towards my ribs. And I think his little butt makes its way toward the left of my body because I get a lump there sometimes then he flips right back over.
Food Cravings: Ice. Has been for a few months.
Gender: Boy.
Belly Button: Came out most of the way but doesn’t look like an outie.
What I miss? Working. Regular sleep. Not having to excessively go to the bathroom everytime I am trying to do something else!
What I am looking forward to: Holding him finally!
Weekly Wisdom: “God doesn’t put any pain on you that you won’t be able to tolerate.” Which is why men do not get pregnant.
-
Being a mother is hard for me to imagine, still.
I can’t put myself in my best friends’ my own mother, shoes.
I can’t imagine raising a child to be brought up well, learning right from wrong, staying out of trouble, getting good grades, believing in God and living through Christ like he should, in my belief.
I want to raise him right as my mother did me.
I just can’t picture myself doing anything right….
like she did.
I want to be just like her, though. -
I’m irritated. My new stretch marks are so itchy, I’m about to scratch my skin off! I’m craving rolos, cheese dip, a coke, a sunny d and hate going to the gas station looking like a hoosier.
>_<mini rant. thanks.
On the plus side, I’m pretty sure I starting to have contractions….and I’m excited! I want to go to the hospital and have my baby boy now!
How are your stretch marks? -
Is it just hormones?
Am I too paranoid?
Will I ever be able to trust you again??I just can’t shake these feelings…
