Surviving life nowadays only with books, coffee and tons of daydreaming about my own fictional world.
That feeling of not knowing what's wrong but nothing feels right.
"You are so quite." Baby I'm not even here. I am fantasising about a book I read weeks ago. Move on.
Reading to someone and being read to are the most incredible and one of the best intimate feelings one can experience. Period!
Love language💫
“I felt him in everything. And what I felt was too deep.”
— Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary; 1939-1947
Margaret Atwood, from True Stories: Poems; "True Romances," originally published in 1981
I am well aware of the reality but it doesn’t least a bit stop me from creating the delusional world in my mind.
The pressing desire to be with someone when Fyodor Dostoevsky said, "I want to talk about everything with at least one person as I talk about things with myself."
When Tahseen Anam said,
" And we fall for those who are not even there to hold us"
I felt it through and through.
Why is it 'WYD?' and never 'come on, let's watch the moon together.'