“It Was The Way You Held My Hand; How You Could Make Such A Simple Gesture So Intimate, So Special.It

Trauma didn't make me nice, I consciously made me nice because I don't want anyone else to suffer like I did. Trauma didn't make me strong, I made me strong. Don't you dare ever tell me my trauma made me anything but scared, broken, and confused. Don't give credit to the abusers for me being a good person. They didn't make me good, I made myself good.

I hate you for making me love you so much when you couldn’t give a damn about me

“You know, I finally got over you. I spilt all my emotions into notebooks and cried through a pen and was left with pages of poems filled with you. It took me years and a strength I never knew I had. You changed me, there is no doubting that, I never returned to the girl I once was. The naïve sixteen-year-old who thought that love would never hurt her. I was angry at you for a while, and then I wasn’t, and then all I did was cry and then I just longed to be held by you at 3am when my tear soaked pillow reminded me of everything we’d lost. Then i was over you. I really was, I could drink black coffee again, I could go out with my friends again and I could listen to all the songs that reminded me of you with out crying. Then I came home for Christmas to visit my parents in the small town we met. The fairy lights and the Christmas tree and the decorations in everyone’s windows changed something and then I saw you. You hadn’t changed, and the soft twinkling lights against your face made me forget that I was over you and I guess I fell again. I hate that you have the power to do this to me, I hate that you can make me feel like a giddy sixteen-year-old again. I left her behind a long time ago, ran away from her. Moved to the biggest city and got the hardest job I could find. Cut my waist length hair and abandoned my favourite candy floss coloured hair clips. Just so I could leave behind the girl who had no other aspirations than to marry you and have kids and a dog and a cute house with a fence and daffodils in the garden the one we always use to talk about. I ran away and left behind the girl who didn’t need anything more than you. You saw me and you smiled. That little smirk that haunts my dreams but makes them worth remembering. You didn’t ask about my job and you didn’t tell me how proud you were of my promotion; you weren’t impressed by the small town girl living in a big city with an expensive apartment and designer shoes. All you said was “you cut your hair? I like it” After all those years and tears and poems and waking up next to strange men with blue eyes and brown hair, all you could say was “I like your hair”? I’ve never fallen harder or faster or deeper in love. We stood on the same pavement we stood when you gave me a plastic ring all those years ago when we were sixteen and we started laughing like we were sixteen again, and you looked at me like you use to before everything got complicated and heavy and hard. We aren’t sixteen anymore and things are even more complicated now and I don’t love you as much as I did. I love you more, because the truth is I never stopped, I didn’t get over you I just buried you and replaced you with the little things I could fall in love with like hot cocoa in the winter and walks through the park on my days off. I guess when I came back to this small town the girl I ran away from all those years ago found me again and now all I can think about is candy floss coloured hair clips and what we might name our kids, whether they’ll have my eyes and your nose or my long legs and your smile. I don’t know but I know I was made to love you and every time I look into your blue eyes I’m certain that I’ll love you as long as I’m alive.”

—

L.S.

This is my first long one so let me know if you like/don’t like it

“Let someone love you just the way you are - as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe you must hide of all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.”

— Marc Hack

love is not rational and it isn’t supposed to be. it’s okay to fall in love with the boy everyone wants. it’s okay to fall in love with the boy who lives on the other side of the world. it’s okay to miss someone you just met. it’s okay to fall in love fast. because love is not rational. love is hearing their voice for the first time and knowing that you want to hear it say i love you every night before bed for the rest of your life. love is thinking of them every second you aren’t speaking. love isn’t supposed to make sense. it’s supposed to make you do things you never thought you would. it’s supposed to be a whirlwind, a hurricane, that’s what makes it so amazing.

4am

Im still hoping its you and me in the end.

(via little-random-thoughts)

95% of my personality is worrying I do everything wrong and that I will inevitably be abandoned because my traumatised ass is too much and simultaneously not enough