You spoke snippets of truth with confidence from a drunken mouth about the flammable feelings of your heart and the flighting truth in a purposeful slumber of whispers.
You said soulmates as if this word meant the divine fate of our Destiny who seemed to be waiting at the front porch, exasperated, lost yet satisfied.
Sober thoughts escape from your trashed body in whirlwinds of sweat and bodily fluids. In goes the sweet alcohol. Out comes your rawness, vulnerability. And Destiny clutches at you from the strings of your tongue, hoping what you say will be the right cards.
I sit here: wondering, questioning, believing your
shit-facedblabberings at six in the morning. Imagining what it would be like to make eye contact and truly see you because you said soulmates last night, and I believed you.
I will be deleting this blog in a week. It’s time for a new start.
Papers for Encounters are the bane of my existence.
A random update
Today could not have gone any better. I walked into my dorm and smelled brownies. Found one of my sectionmates baking chocolate cupcakes. Most of the people received my letters I sent, and their comments made me feel bubbly. And I caught up with special people.
I haven’t felt as content as this since I’ve stepped foot on campus.
Today has been lovely.
Deleting this blog.
It’s time for a new beginning.
Maybe it’s just in America, but it seems that if you’re passionate about something, it freaks people out. You’re considered bizarre or eccentric. To me, it just means you know who you are.Tim Burton (via bettychantel)