I think about you. But I don’t say it anymore. Marguerite Duras, from Hiroshima, Mon Amour 

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)


56,883 notes

The day after you left, I counted my steps. 18 steps from my bed to the bathroom. Your toothbrush on the shelf, your towel on the back of the door. 13 steps from the bathroom, to the kitchen. Your coffee cup still on the counter, half empty, you forgot to finish it when you rushed out of the door. I dipped my fingertip into it, to see if maybe it had all been a dream. Maybe if it was still hot, it would prove that you weren’t gone for good, you’d just gone out to check the mail, got caught up talking to the neighbour, were taking the dog out, were looking for something in the shed. Were doing something, something other than leaving me. One step back when I took my finger out of the cold coffee, wiped it on my pyjama shorts, leaned against the edge of the sink. Cold coffee only meant one thing - all of yesterday had really happened. It was now 23 hours, 1058 steps pacing around the house, 27 unanswered calls and one sleepless night later. Three steps to the kitchen table, drumming my fingers on the table, tapping my phone, checking the screen for messages. Zero messages, as many calls. Seven steps to the livingroom, seven steps back to where I was. Eight steps back into the livingroom, I crouched down to pat my dog on the head. Who is it that suffers the most when two people separate? The lovers, or those who love them most? 

38 steps back up to my bedroom, to crawl back under the covers, pull your pillow under, wrap my arms around it and fall apart again. 
Two hours later, one foot on the floor, and three years of memories weighing down on me. Second foot on the floor, 18 steps back down to the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth, tie my hair up. A hair tie you found, somewhere, I still remember it around your wrist, snapping it, and snapping it, and throwing it on the shelf before showering. The shelf I just took it from. Three steps into the shower, the hot water almost as soothing as you. The first time in 25 hours I haven’t been cold, But I haven’t stopped missing you for a single one of those hours. Not a minute. Not a second. Three steps back to my towel. 13 steps into the kitchen, one touch on my phone, still nothing. 
Three hours, 3545 steps later and two rain soaked shoes later, but still no calls. 

Now it’s been 26 hours, 4732 steps and countless questions running through my head later, and still no word from you. Sitting at the table in my kitchen, too exhausted to move, your coffee on the counter, my phone in my hands.
How many hours does it take until the heart can grasp the extent of it’s loss? How many steps until it heals?And so it starts, all the hours that are too many to count, that I am forced to get through, without you. I watch a minute go by while I think about you. I watch the seconds tick, tick, tick all through another hour, while I wonder if I will count my time without you for the next 525949 hours. The rest of my life.

17 notes
Partners
It was so hot today that we went to play around in some glacial melt water, that felt like it didn’t warm up at all.
Mr Boots is here too. The three of us decided beds were better than cages.
Kitty Purry and I are having a sleepover.
I was in love, in lust, in something with him and all logic, all fact, all reality, none of that seemed to matter, not to my body and not to my heart. Karina Halle, Love, in English 

(Source: quotes-shape-us)


657 notes

yea sex is pretty good but have u ever taken a nap with someone

(Source: mangomamita)

52,387 notes
I went to hang out with a bunch of cats today. This one was very against me leaving.
Mine

The problem was
and is
that I think of you
as mine

20 notes
My #wcw, every Wednesday.
.

I have this vision,
of you and I on hot summer days, laying in the tall grass, breathing in the humid air and listening to the sounds of the summer heat. We’re worlds away from anyone, and miles from anything that could remind us of where we came from. 
Mornings with you, wrapped in cool white sheets, listening to the street outside come alive with the sounds of a new day. We could spend our lives like this, laying here together and not saying a word. Stretching out the last lingering memories from yesterday, pulling you in closer and nuzzling my face against you.

This is what I think of, when I rest my chin in my hands and stare out at the sky. Imagining waking up with you next to me again, with your soft sweetness and amber eyes. Dreaming of better days, dreaming of when it was still you and I. 
Maybe it’s not a vision, as much as a dream, a hope - to get to come home to you again.

9 notes
 
I really should be getting to bed

But instead I’m just shuffling about my room looking at pictures and videos of little Felix. It makes me so sad whenever I remember that he’s gone. He was such a bundle of purring, meowing joy. And who will sleep next to my face now and force me to inhale fur and knead me with tiny catbunny paws. 

Also, currently considering a pact with the devil or any willing entity to get my cat back somehow. I had a solid 16 year plan for him, this is too soon.

2 notes
I loved him even if he did destroy my canopy
credit