When he walks in the room
In my mind I’m like:
In reality:
When I try to get his attention
In my mind:
In reality:
When he starts talking to me
In my mind:
In reality:
If he says anything remotely funny
In my mind:
In reality:
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1. Run away to Brooklyn. Rent an apartment with a claw footed bathtub. Commute to Manhattan during the week and put in hours at a menial publishing job. Drive home to New Jersey on weekends to swim in the pool and cry to your mother. Smoke Gauloises on the fire escape. Let yellowing issues of Rolling Stone and Vogue pile into a protective fortress around your bed. Listen to Cat Power. Fall asleep mostly naked beneath the duvet watching Sportscenter and drinking earl grey. Date a Yankees fan and kiss his hands on the 4 Train into the Bronx.
2. Run away to Barcelona. Eat milk chocolate magnum bars and drink cheap champagne. Burst into charming fits of laughter whenever you get embarrassed about butchering the Catalan language. Wear denim cutoffs, Dr. Pepper chapstick, and very little else. Go dancing at 3 a.m. Whiten your teeth. Tan your shoulders. Braid feathers into your hair. Perpetually wake up with sand caught in the thin cotton sheets of your tiny bed. Listen to the Rolling Stones and kiss all the longhaired boys you can get your hands on without ever having to apologize.
3. Run away to Los Angeles. Sublet a studio in Venice three blocks from the beach. Listen to top 40 radio. Go to Chateau Marmont and charge drinks you can’t afford to a long-dormant credit card. Sleep with a television actor who lives in the valley. Sleep with a musician who lives in Bel Air. Break things off with both of them when gas prices begin to rise. Find Gilda Radner’s star on the Walk Of Fame and swallow a sob when you see the filthy cement around her name is cracked. Walk through the Venice Canals until the sun sets and you forget your own name. Call your mother crying from the parking lot of a 24-hour Ralph’s supermarket. Tell her you want to come home.
4. Run away to Paris. Gaze at the pink and pistachio glow of macarons in the window on Boulevard Saint-Germain. Listen to Joni Mitchell. Meet an Argentinean man in the Latin Quarter for drinks. Melt into his accent and kiss him goodnight, but return to your apartment alone because his face doesn’t look enough like the man’s you are trying to forget. Get lost in the Richelieu Wing of the Louvre, admiring Napoleon’s fine red damask. Walk alone along the Seine in an old dress, ten-dollar shoes, and an Hermes scarf. Fumble with the locks on the fence overlooking the river. They all have lovers’ names etched into them and the girl who left the red heart-shaped lock has the same name as you.
5. Run away to Martha’s Vineyard. Write heartbroken stories during the day in front of a large fan that blows curls of humid hair across your tired face. Take a waitress job at The Black Dog at night and try hard not to drop too many trays. Learn to ride a moped. Pretend you’re a Kennedy. Listen to Carly Simon. Eat hand-churned ice cream out of waffle cones. Visit the flying horses and consider how many girls just like you have sat on the same horse clutching for the same brass ring. Get stoned and dance barefoot down the length of the eroded Jaws beach. Date a Red Sox fan. Yell at each other during baseball games, and then kiss and make up between tangled sheets.
" -
"A woman has got to love a bad man once or twice in her life to be thankful for a good one."Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (via victoriaelyse)
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"I’ve never minded it,” he went on. “Being lost, that is. I had always thought one could not truly be lost if one knew one’s own heart. But I fear I may be lost without knowing yours."Cassandra Clare (via quotewhore)
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"And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears. And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears."Mumford & Sons (via quotewhore)
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The Lovers of Valdaro.
Believed to be no older than twenty years of age when death occurred.
Over 5,000 years old.
Locked in an eternal embrace.
Tragically, their story is unknown.
Ironically, they were found in the city of Mantua. In Italy.
The city Shakespeare chose to set the story of Romeo & Juliet. -
» The Frenemy.: What I'd Rather Do Than Lose Five Pounds
- eat a burrito
- eat a burrito and spring for the extra 75 cents that it costs for guacamole, even though I find the fact that they charge for avocado on a dish that traditionally comes with it FOR FREE makes me feel more and more like the 99% everyday
- wear the great equalizer-a pair of pajama…
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» The Frenemy.: Get Over It!
i am so thankful for this post, i started crying while reading it. then i became Beyonce circa the Independent Woman music video & took it to heart. I’ll be okay. I’ll still have bad days. I’ll still cry. I’ll still bitch. But I’ll be okay. We all deserve someone who is going derserve us too. Today, I can breathe. And after reading this..laugh :)
The first time I had my heart broken, I used the word ‘heart broken’ because I physically thought there was something wrong with me. There was the breathing problems- the way my breath caught in my chest and I had no idea how to exhale it outwards, the kind of troubles I had swallowing, the way…
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“Two roads diverged in the wood, and I…I didn’t even notice until just now. Then two more roads diverging, and two more, and suddenly here you are in the middle of…somewhere, pretending you know where you’re going.”
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"I wanted to be with him forever. I marveled at how such a monumental realization can unfold in an instant and change every single thing in your life."Emily Giffin (via quotewhore)
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"There is a primal reassurance in being touched, in knowing that someone else, someone close to you, wants to be touching you. There is a bone-deep security that goes with the brush of a human hand, a silent, reflex-level affirmation that someone is near, that someone cares."Jim Butcher (White Night, The Dresden Files)
