Everything you love is here(via lovequotesrus)
I am sorry for filling you with beer and bad thoughts and then asking you why you shook. I am sorry for pinching you, for hitting you, for bruising the thin-skinned parts of you. I am sorry for the names I called you when we were fighting. You are not ugly. You are not useless. You would not be better off gone. I’m sorry for almost throwing you out into the street because my sadness was too much for me. I’m sorry for carving my fingernails into your thigh and then resenting the way people asked, “How’d that happen?” I’m sorry for plucking you and nicking your calves with drugstore razors. I’m sorry I let some people see you in the moonlight. They didn’t deserve to know the color of your hips like I do. I’m sorry for leaving you convulsing over a toilet bowl over some boy. I’m sorry I did not thank you for simply trying to take me where I wanted to go. I’m sorry I screamed at you to shrink, shrink, shrink when all you could do was grow. I’m sorry that this apology is ten years too late. I’m sorry that it will probably come again. I’m sorry that I do not treat anybody else as poorly as I have treated you. I’m sorry that I am constantly learning how to love you, when you have never once doubted how you feel about me. I’m sorry in ways I have not yet learned to communicate.
It is now that I understand and have underestimated the angst towards complacency. Complacency is being finished, uninterested, the lack of fear. The lack of fear. The lack of “Please stay”. The lack of “I’m scared of losing you”. It is something I yearned for but now cower away from. It is not satisfaction. It is not enlightenment. To be complacent is to kiss me on the forehead and bid me goodbye. I do not find solitude in forehead kisses. My solitude resides in fast beating hearts, dilated pupils, and sweaty palms. Complacent is “I have not the energy to fight for you.
The problem with relationships is that they’re lust based.We fall for the layers of skin that are soon to weather away then wonder what went wrong.
We need to be taught how to fall for the little quirks and misfits. The way his shirts are often too tight or too loose, the way his brows can’t seem to fall in order, the slight crookedness of his nose from when he was young and restless or the way he hums those ridiculous tunes when he thinks no one’s listening.
Fall for the way his eyes glow with that prickle of contained excitement when he thinks of (what he considers) an ingenious idea and the way he zones out mid conversation because he got distracted by the window view. And most importantly, fall for the way he battles his demons and be there to help him undo the damage they’ve done.
Fall for his quirks and misfits for these are the ones stamped in his soul. And fall for his soul for that is the one thing that won’t weather away.