Listener (via alpineblooms)
Everything falls apart at the exact same time
that it all comes together perfectly for the next step
I usually just call him, “Josh,” which is short for his full name, “Joshua.” Besides that, I call him, “bear,” “love,” “babe,” “baby” and “honey.” Those are just a few, but the main ones.
We came up with “street names” the other day and I’m “Little M” and he’s “Princess Pumpernickel.” Terrifying.
We’re not really TV people as much as Netflix people… but we do enjoy Futurama, Korra, and The Office. I mostly get weepy during the Jim/Pam parts.
does josh ever read the beautiful things you write about him on here? they are just so wonderful and full of love and beautifully written i think anyone would be honored to have them, buthe doesn't have a tumblr so maybe not? god bless you, you kind woman.
Haha, yes, he sometimes reads them. He does have a blog, actually! He follows me, so he’ll see what I write pop up on his blog. And if I’m nearby, he kisses me on the cheek or forehead.
However, we also both understand that putting sweet stuff on the internet means nothing if it isn’t lived out in a real and raw way. So we make sure we tell each other our feelings in real life way more than on social media….so most of what I write on here is just a reflection of the things we tell each other in real life.
He is the sweetest guy in the whole wide world and he lives his love for me in such a selfless, real life way. I am so honored to be his girl.
I tucked my chin into your shoulder, tears threatening through eyelashes closed. You love me. You never stop. I love you back but I can’t, can’t, can’t be enough. Every girl waits for a lifetime to find the one. You are the one. You were magic and light and fireworks. But I can’t, can’t, can’t make it work. I am too broken, and the jagged edges of myself cause you pain. Your pain hurts me more than anything. So I must leave, leave, repair, renew. Maybe one day, years down the road, I will find you again. You will look at me through older eyes, with experienced hands you will hold my face and tell me, it was always me. Because when you find that person, sometimes leaving, running, breaking, is the only way to save it. They always find you again. They follow the sound of your heart singing for them.
Reading old things I wrote about Josh as I clean up my computer before going to Puerto Rico. To see all that happened and all we are now is such a funny puzzle piece of joy. Love is so miraculous and has a way of stitching things together again and again and again.
At last she looked up at him. Her eyes were full of tears, and her look unbearably naked. Such looks we have all once or twice in our lives received and shared; they are those in which worlds melt, pasts dissolve, moments when we know, in the resolution of profoundest need, that the rock of ages can never be anything else but love, here, now, in these two hands’ joining, in this blind silence in which one head comes to rest beneath the other.
John Fowles, The French Lieutenant’s Woman (via kvtes)