I am no longer in love with her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair (via cameron-obsucra)
I am happy. I think I really am. But then I get sad. And sometimes it overwhelms me how sad I can get.
The more one does and sees and feels, the more one is able to do, and the more genuine may be one’s appreciation of fundamental things like home, and love, and understanding companionship.
I was yours before we even began. I’m yours. I’m yours. Darling, I’m all yours. I’m yours for as long as you’ll let me. And even then, I’ll still be yours.
Oh baby there is nothing more that I want than to have you crying in my arms at 3 a.m. I know it sounds awful, but I just want to hold you when you’re sad. I want to remind you that someone loves you. Even if it’s just me.
I didn’t get over it, but I got used to it.
The beautiful United States of America.