(Source: , via llllix)
Whatever Works
Home • Archive • Ask • Lover • Written • Sexy
5281995825201111291994♥
17|LQHS|CA|RED♥|Llamas Trang, but people call me Charlie. I'm just a girl and life is a nightmare. I live, laugh, and love without restraint. The color red and my boyfriend Edgar turn me on. I'm desperately in love, and my blog reflects that. It might disgust you. I have no idea who I am, but you can try to figure me out. Whatever works.AIM: tantalizingtrang llama(s) frolickingHome • Archive • Ask • Lover • Written • Sexy
58-7:
Life’s too short to care about each and every single detail. Worry only about the important ones.
I can’t grow up
Everybody wants love, even the loveless. Everybody wants the jaw-clenching passion that comes with the package of what true love entails, the type of emotion that makes an individual yearn for more regardless of the pain that attaches itself to it. Everybody wants the magic, but nobody wants the tragic heartache that results. And it’s hard to say but you really can’t have love without ache.
So I thought that I could break the mold, set an example, not for anybody else but for myself; for the sake of my own sanity and helpless and pathetic heart. I looked for conventionality. I looked for what fit the norm. And I lied to myself that this was happiness, that this kind of love is necessary and made for the deserving.
But you’re young once, I guess a call of ‘yolo’ is in place. We’re young once and we’re made reckless, we want the kind of love that makes us crazy, the kind of love that makes us cry at night. And we can’t be happy with conventional, at least not right now. So I guess my question is.. when? When does the hurting end and when does the growing up stop and why does it have to? Why does the truest love have to be the most detrimental and damaging? Why can’t we be with the one we love the most?
on nights like these.
Tonight, I want to crawl out of my own skin
and into someone else’s. I want to shed the heavy gravity of my body away.
Tonight, I want to stay up all night
just because I can,
or curl up with a book (or two, or three)
just because it is a Friday evening at home,
and there is nothing else to do.
Tonight, I want to shun the company of other humans
and simply drown in honest words.
They are brutal. But still.
It just hurts a lot less that way.It is one of those nights where I feel so out of place
like my hands are too big and clumsy and my heart is too small
to make allowances for anything or anyone
to enter without permission.
And tonight, I don’t feel permissive. I don’t feel kind at all.
I just want to barricade myself inside
where daylight cannot reach
and urgent hands cannot tug me out of this steel shell
nor coax me to engage in half-hearted conversations,
I just want to burn the midnight oil, alone,
carve directions on my wall to map out a path of loneliness
for next time, just in case. I have a checklist written out, too,
with only one thing on there:
- do not open the door for any visitors. do not check beneath the bed for monsters. you will receive none and they are inside you and it would be better if you just left both of them be.
And I wish I could banish the coming of tomorrow
with a careless wave of my hands, or halt the clock for a few precious hours
and hold it, still and steady and silent.
If only it were that easy to be happy. But if it were
I wouldn’t be feeling this way, or telling you this,
I’d just be.But we are all trapped inside our own bodies,
wearing the same suit of skin and brittle bones
all the time.
And I wonder if, on nights like these,
anyone feels this way, too, for call me selfish
and I can’t explain this but
it would be nice to know that
I am not alone in my loneliness.
