Oh well, the devil makes us sin
But we like it when we’re spinning in his grip
It’s not that I don’t love you, because I do… I guess I just accepted the fact that you were never going to change. I was never going to be your priority
the saddest part in the fault in our stars is when augustus falls in the chocolate river and gets sucked up the pipe
One thing I love about writing is that I can let my mind wander for hours, completely indulging myself into the story line, crying and laughing right along side my characters… but at the end of the night, as my mind grows tired and after I’ve lived out my wildest adventures through poetry and beautiful words, I could shut off my computer, shut off my brain, shut off my emotions. Those feelings I felt while writing, would go away with the click of a button.
With this everlasting constant cycle of daydreaming I’ve found that I’m slowly losing grasp of my own reality. I treat life as if it were a story, always basing my actions on what would make for the most, heart-wrenching, ending which is what I’ve created for myself.
But this isn’t a story, sometimes I feel like it is, it’s so familiar, a story I’ve written over and over a dozen times, a heartbreak that I’ve felt before through made up words and scenarios… but then I realize that this is real. You were real. The love I feel for you is real. Your beautiful heartbeat, harmonizing with mine, making the beautiful music that was your life, was real. And this pain… this pain in my chest, this constant overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret is the realest thing that I have ever felt in my entire life.
Drifting in and out of reality is the only thing that numbs me anymore. Pretending that this isn’t real is the only way I can cope most of the time.
Sometimes I wish this were all a dream, I wish this was just another typo in one of my stories that I could erase. I want more than anything to be able to turn on my computer, open up wordpad, and hit backspace until you’re apart of me again.
This is my reality that you are no longer apart of. I can’t shut off these feelings with a press of a button. I can’t delete the parts of the story that I don’t like and start over. My book is being published and printed with every decision, and your ending is final, little one. You were written out too early, by the one person who created you. I’m sorry I never gave you the chance to write your own story.
You will forever be the character I love and cherish most. I know I say this all the time, but I love you, and I miss you, and I’m sorry. My shattered soul will always long for your life. My story will forever be incomplete because you were my ending.
"Let’s take a photo together"
"Okay but don’t touch me"
- a real conversation I had seconds before taking a photo with beef cake here.
Taking a much needed vacation, flight leaves super early tomorrow.
San Diego here I come!
Sometimes the best documentation is the memories that your eyes and heart capture. No lense has the power to capture the feeling of experience. I feel like I wasted a lot of my life and missed out on a lot of great experiences because I was always stressing, trying to get a good picture when really, I would have enjoyed what I was doing more if I would have simply just fully indulged myself in the opportunity that was being presented to me at the time. Life is different when you’re looking at the world through a lense. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s good to take pictures, you should take pictures of yourself when you’re happy, when you’re sad. Take pictures of your food, of places you’ve traveled, of things you’ve purchased… but when you’re with a group of friends, put down the camera, put down the phone, whatever friends you’re texting, whatever tweet you’re tweeting, or picture you’re instagramming, can wait. Just enjoy the great company that you have right in front of you and see the world with nature’s lense, the best lense of all, your eyes.
My sweetest baby,
This was the first weekend I’ve gone out since I lost you. One of my followers basically yelled at me to stop being so mopey and at least try and be happy, so I did.
It’s amazing how in the midst of laughing and good friends, the thought of you can still creep into my mind. I found myself halfway through the night going into the bathroom stall and just crying because I couldn’t contain my sadness. I know I say this all the time, but I miss you.
I miss you so much.
People keep telling me that it will get easier but I don’t feel like it ever will. My heart still aches and I still get that lump in the back of my throat with every thought of you.
I love you little one, I wish you were still here.
Beauty Tip: Have acne? Cake foundation up to the top layer of your zits for a clear complexion
I don’t understand how people can jump from one relationship to the next, like, I’m sad, my heart hurts, I love him, how do you ever even love someone else again? How do you even talk to other guys? I don’t want to talk to other guys, or date other guys. I just want to cuddle up in bed, alone for the rest of my life and cry, yet here you are, a billion boyfriends later and you seem fine and all I can think is, ‘shit, I want to be like you’ I want to not love someone this much, I want to be able to look at another guy and not miss him. I just want to be okay, but i’m not.
You all may have a backup, but not me, he wasn’t an option, he was my priority, my first pick, I don’t have someone else. I don’t want a backup anyway simply because if I can’t have him, I’d rather be alone.
And maybe I won’t always feel like this, but it’s going to be awhile before I’m ready to date again because unlike you my heart needs time to mend. I’ll date again, eventually, I just need to be okay first.
It seems that when your little heart stopped beating, so did my relationship with your father. The absence of your life has taken a toll on mine. I can’t make it through the day without crying about you. I miss you so much it hurts and while I love your father, I just can’t be hurt by him anymore, either.
He gave me life, he gave me you, and that’s by far the greatest gift that I have ever been given. We’ll forever be intertwined by your soul, because he is your dad, we are your parents, and for that reason I will forever love him.
It is a difficult thing to figure out what it means to be a mother, especially when my “proof” of motherhood isn’t with me in a stroller or a carseat. There are so many names for people who have lost someone they love. A wife who loses her husband is a widow. A child who loses their parents is an orphan. But there is no new word for a mother who loses a child, for she remains just that: a mother. Within my womb, we shared our hearts. You touched my soul and sweetenened my spirit and that’s all the proof of being a mom that I need.
I’m so honored to be your mother and so grateful to have felt your life inside of mine, even if it was only for a few, sweet, short weeks. Happy Mother’s Day little one.
Love, Your Mommy
Anonymous said: your goldfish is going to die in a bowl that size
I’m well aware, it was just a temporary thing until I bought him a fishtank, which is what I did this morning.