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He laughed and pulled her to the ground.

"Oh." He said, "but we’re all invincible till we fall in love."

—Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #61

(Source: rocxky)

It works like this:

He takes your hand and swears he loves you. And sometimes the words don’t even leave his mouth but you think you know. And he cracks open your ribs, all the while muffling your protests. He promises it won’t hurt and you believe him even though something screams at you to run. And with his hands around your throat you swear this can’t be right. But he caresses your hair and suddenly you could listen to his lies forever.

It works like this:

He makes you laugh and he makes you cry and somewhere along the way you stop knowing which is which. He pushes you against the wall and you mistake it for passion, and you apologize for overreacting when his nails leave marks on your skin. But one day you don’t recognize your reflection anymore and you find the life has been drained right out. You realize he shouldn’t be trying to subdue the glow in your eyes and the fire in your heart. And the day you leave, your ribs will finally begin to heal. His hand prints will slowly disappear until you swear they were never there at all.

In two years you won’t remember the sound of his footsteps but right now they’re all you hear. But soon you will stop seeing him in everything. And if you smile a little and laugh a lot, you might just find, that one day, he’ll disappear altogether.

—Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #60 - "I am recovering from an abusive relationship. Can you write about PTSD?"

She will cry. She will cry over you like there is no tomorrow, until her throat is raw and her hair a mess. Her screams will echo through the walls and there will be nothing beautiful about it.

She will tear out the pages of her diary that she dedicated to you and swear your name will never again appear on the crisp pages that are so important to her. But two days later the words won’t come and she’ll find herself scrawling your name over and over until the ink blurs and merges with her tears.

She will curse you and curse herself and curse the skies for everything and nothing. There will be days when the sun shines but all she will see is rain and clouds, and days when she won’t see anything at all.

And fuck. She will love you even though her heart is breaking because she gave you a part of herself that you refuse to return.

But know this, she will also learn to forget you, so when she walks by in two months time, laughing and smiling without a care in the world, you will wonder how she slipped through your fingers, and she won’t care.

Not one single bit.

—Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #29 (via blossomfully)

She was the kind of girl who no one really noticed at first. She’d sit there quietly without a sound and if you said hi you’d be lucky to get a smile and a nod.

But if you looked closely, you would notice her fingers tapping on the desk, playing an imaginary piano. You would hear her humming under her breath, just loud enough to orchestrate an entire symphony for one and avoid the ‘what are you singing?’.

And if you asked her what she thought of ‘that film’ you’d probably end up talking to yourself, because she would much rather you ask her opinion on the creation of the universe or how war and poverty are justified.

In fact, she didn’t so mind that no one noticed her, because when she was loud the ground trembled beneath her feet and the mountains echoed her roar.

Her loudness wasn’t something everyone could handle, so when he walked up to her and they began talking about the world in all its wonder, her heart gave a little sigh, as if to say “Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

—Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #30 (via blossomfully)
Anonymous sent: “"When do you know it’s over?" He asked quietly. "When someone stops trying," she answered. "Or worse, when trying no longer works."”----- what book is this if you know you posted this? X

Haha :’) this ask makes me happy.

It’s not actually from a book. I wrote it. You can find more under the tag ‘excerpts from a book I’ll never write’. 

Here!

Anonymous sent: How can some one who makes you so happy can make you so sad?

When someone makes you happy, you immediately identify them with the happy emotion. They are wonderful and perfect and you just want to be around them all the time.

This is dangerous, because wonderful and perfect does not mean they will not hurt you and while you know this, you choose to trust them anyway.

And trust is a funny thing, because falling in love with someone is implicitly placing your entire existence into their palms and saying ‘please don’t fuck up. Please please please. I don’t think I’ll survive if you do’.

And they always say it, they always promise they won’t. The problem is, humans have this tendency of fucking up even when they do their best not to.

Humans. The goddamn bane of my existence. Humans with their green eyes and beautiful words. They’ll commit murder without even being aware of it.

Watching someone try not to laugh is the cutest thing in the world.

(Source: insangelous)

Butterflies

How dangerous,” she thought, “to finally have something worth losing.
Ten word story

(Source: quivered)

"I want to see you breathless," he tells her, "I want you on the floor, against the wall, in various shades of desperation."

"And I want you raw and open, before you learnt what it was to build walls."

"Show me the parts of you you daren’t show anyone." He whispers. "Show me everything."

—Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #59

"Falling for someone is the worst." She says.

"It’s sunshine and butterflies and storms and rain all mixed together and rammed down your throat until you throw it back up and collapse from feeling too much."

"It’s questions that have no answers and heartbeats that threaten to break through your ribcage and fall to the floor. And you will fall to your knees asking why you let someone in to see the darkest recesses of your mind when at any moment they could run away with your secrets and never look back."

"Falling in love is being stabbed a hundred times and drowning in his goddamn eyes. It’s feeling lips and teeth, up against walls and on counters and desks and drawers. It’s letting your hands trace lines and paths across new terrain, laughing at 2am like you’re five years old again and whispering ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’ into his skin."

"Falling in love is clumsy." She whispers. "It’s messy. It’s sitting on the ground running your fingers through your hair thinking: ‘Fuck. I’ve really done it this time."

—Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #45 - "Tell me about falling in love" (via blossomfully)
Anonymous sent: How would you describe meeting someone for the first time and knowing they are the one! Sounds cliche but I know the feeling

Meeting the right person is like having a word on the tip of your tongue and finally remembering it.

It’s like you’re seeing everything clearly for the first time in a long time.

Call it an illusion, call it a lie, but you’re filled with the feeling that you’ve finally made it.

You wonder what your life would have been like if you’d met them sooner. You wonder what your life would be like if you never met them at all.

You’re filled with elation and sadness because you want them to love you but at the same time they are far too perfect and the thought seems impossible.

And ultimately, it just feels right. Being with them feels more right than the rightiest right.