Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is beleiving It's ok not to be ok. Cause somethimes is hard to follow your heart, this don't mean you're losing, everybody is bruising, there's nothing wrong with who you are.
I'm only young. But in my short life I've seen love, love lost and found, love shallow and true. This is beautiful, it helps me feel when I was numb before. I don't think you'll know that that's for you, but I trust you to understand, and I need understanding. Here goes.I don't know why I always do this. There must be a genetic quirk in my brain or something, because I genuinely can't help myself. He is beautiful. He is smart. He is gentle and sweet and sexy and moody and as close to perfection as I can stand. Close as I can imagine. We've never kissed, never touched even. But I am his. For sure, I am his. Whether he wants me or not. There is no doubt about that. I think he wants me too. I think he's close to wanting me, close to doing something about the way we are.But this weekend. I made my mistake. The same one I always make. To be brutally honest and not in an arrogant way, I've always been the sort of girl with quite a few guys around me, but until this weekend I've managed to keep away from them. Managed to rebuff their advances gently and sweetly while never losing the dreamy expression that the one I belong to gives me. I woke up this weekend. I woke up when I fell asleep in his arms. It wasn't the right him.I was at this person's house. I drank wine with his mother, and mine. Then they went to bed, he slid a movie into the machine. His house is a beautiful farmhouse in the country; cold and big. We were in the smallest room on a couch with a blanket and a coal fire in the corner. I don't know that I need to be explicit here; one thing led to another. He cradled me in his strong arms, he kissed me with his lips and tongue and teeth, I felt his heart pounding through the thin cotton of my shirt. He was lovely. It was amazing. But he wasn't the right him.And now I don't know what to do. My guilt is crushing me- not that I really did anything all that wrong. He's not mine, I'm not his. Not officially. But if that's true, why do I feel so sick? This is my confession. I wish I hadn't needed something like this to make me realise how much I love him. Because now I don't deserve him.I needed to tell someone.I feel embarrassed, and stupid, both the user and the used, full of self-loathing. This is my confession.I love you, with every shattered piece of my wasted heart. I'm sorry for everything.
Los días pasarán y algún día el tiempo lo dirá... Sonrio cada vez que lo recuerdo y creeme que es muy raro,hay veces que muerdo mi mano para ver si fué soñado y es que me he imaginado tantas veces contigo..
Es extraño, que una persona aparezca en tu vida y lo cambie todo. Alguien del que habías prescindido sin mayores problemas hasta ese momento. Y que sin embargo, se apodera de ti, consiguiendo que a partir de entonces nada tenga sentido lejos de él. Como si fuera tu mitad perdida, una de las pocas razones para poder seguir adelante ..
-Sabes?Yo también se por qué te quiero...Porque haces las cosas fáciles. Porque si tuviera que elegir un sitio para vivir... sería tu cuarto. Porque debajo de tu cama el mundo es tan pequeño, que parece que no puede pasar nada más. Y a mí no me hace falta que pase nada más, si estoy contigo...
-Si es que al final pasará como el aquel cuento de los tres cerditos se comen al pastor que intentaba matar a la abuelita de la caperucita roja mientras ésta se tiraba al príncipe que se olvidó de despertar a Blanca Nieves.
-El corazón tiene las dimensiones de un puño y su forma es semejante a la de una pera con la punta hacia abajo. El corazón es el órgano que simboliza el amor, sigue el ritmo de las emociones. Normalmente en una persona adulta el corazón se contrae entre sesenta y setenta veces por minuto. En el de una persona enamorada muchas más, a veces llega hasta cien sin que ni siquiera se de cuenta.