I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it, doesn’t get it. They may think they get it, but they don’t. This is the sign you’ve been looking for.
You were meant to read these words.
Monday, April 5, 2010
The Last Days
I just need you to be able to tell people I was here, I felt, I lived and I loved as much as I could, while I could. And that the person that I loved, was you.
I've been reading for a little over an hour now, and I feel like I should really say how amazing your writing is.
I don't know if I'll ever quite understand some or all of these things, or feel the same feelings you do. But, coming from a fellow writer, I think the importance doesn't lie in us trying to feel what others do, but to simply feel our own feelings; to dance to the beat of our own songs. Something like that.
Anyways, here's to your wonder of a blog, and to the way you see life. Cheers!
Your words are and have been inspiring to me. I can't help but feel a finality, that transends A knowing. When I direct my thoughts your way It is with great anticipation and you motivate me. I would like to define by some act of will how I honor "You" though I am only left with the ability to "Bow". I could write you a song or dedicate some act of kindness perhaps I will, still. It is with great admiration I will portray, not just copy or mimic who I know you are. What more can I say, THANK YOU.
On April 5, 2003 my best friend killed himself with a note filled with similar words. Today as I read your website, I find this as a sign to continue my life in the way he would have wanted me to, to stop worrying about how much I wish he knew the feelings were reciprocated, and that life can still be a beautiful thing.
Thank you for your words. They do more than you could possibly imagine.
I've read this loads of times, I thought my heart had become immune to your words and this wasn't meant for me. Then I read the comments and they made me cry.
I really, really miss you. You know I miss you. I know you miss me back.
I feel like, even though the world has spun. We've moved on. And we've closed our book. I still wonder about the pages unwritten. The ones we dreamt of and only at the end, spoke of.
How different it would have been if we had not walked away.
Leave. Please go. Give me the keys. Don't ever come back. Let me get the door for you so I can slam it on your way out. Hold on. Will you look into my sweet blue eyes just one last time? They never wanted to own you or for you to own them. They never wanted to hurt you. This, simply, is what they whisper.
Love your blog!
ReplyDeletexx
First time reader and commenter, here.
ReplyDeleteI've been reading for a little over an hour now, and I feel like I should really say how amazing your writing is.
I don't know if I'll ever quite understand some or all of these things, or feel the same feelings you do. But, coming from a fellow writer, I think the importance doesn't lie in us trying to feel what others do, but to simply feel our own feelings; to dance to the beat of our own songs. Something like that.
Anyways, here's to your wonder of a blog, and to the way you see life. Cheers!
I wish I could have said it back...
ReplyDeleteYour words are and have been inspiring to me. I can't help but feel a finality, that transends A knowing. When I direct my thoughts your way It is with great anticipation and you motivate me. I would like to define by some act of will how I honor "You" though I am only left with the ability to "Bow". I could write you a song or dedicate some act of kindness perhaps I will, still. It is with great admiration I will portray, not just copy or mimic who I know you are. What more can I say, THANK YOU.
ReplyDeletei just love your words.
ReplyDeleteYou have already done that..
ReplyDeleteOn April 5, 2003 my best friend killed himself with a note filled with similar words. Today as I read your website, I find this as a sign to continue my life in the way he would have wanted me to, to stop worrying about how much I wish he knew the feelings were reciprocated, and that life can still be a beautiful thing.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your words. They do more than you could possibly imagine.
Wow, your writing is just so beauitful. Your the type of writer I aspire to be like.
ReplyDeleteare you leaving?
ReplyDeletethank you, thank you, thank you. your words are stunning.
ReplyDeleteawesome.
ReplyDeleteand the picture is great.
this. is. amazing
ReplyDeleteenough said :)
and with that i'll also add that i can only dream of being HALF as good of a writer as you
ReplyDeletei like.
ReplyDeleteI feel sth close for people who write the reason why you do.
ReplyDeletemaybe cos i too was/am in your place once/still.
and i cried when i read this..
ReplyDeleteoh my love..
i cried cried..
you're my all
you're my heart..
;(
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI've read this loads of times, I thought my heart had become immune to your words and this wasn't meant for me. Then I read the comments and they made me cry.
ReplyDelete:')
ReplyDeleteI really, really miss you. You know I miss you. I know you miss me back.
ReplyDeleteI feel like, even though the world has spun. We've moved on. And we've closed our book. I still wonder about the pages unwritten. The ones we dreamt of and only at the end, spoke of.
How different it would have been if we had not walked away.
I dream of that every day.
You are the love story of my life.
The story that has ended
I miss you too.
ReplyDeleteI wonder too.
I dream too.
I still wish.
I still hope.
I still pray.
For YOU.
I wish you knew.
ReplyDeletesoul - moving !
ReplyDeleteaww, this is very touching n lovely ;)
ReplyDeleteI only wish I knew you loved me while you were here. Then I wouldn't have to let everyone know I don't hate you anymore.
ReplyDeleteYou inspires me so much to write! x
ReplyDeletehttp://ilovetinnie.blogspot.com
Leave. Please go. Give me the keys. Don't ever come back. Let me get the door for you so I can slam it on your way out. Hold on.
ReplyDeleteWill you look into my sweet blue eyes just one last time? They never wanted to own you or for you to own them. They never wanted to hurt you. This, simply, is what they whisper.