I have a terrible memory. I don’t remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday or whether or not I hung out with my friends a week ago. But I remember every time you ever called me beautiful. I remember each time you told me you loved me. I remember every “you’re my favorite person” and “I miss you” better than I can remember the final chapter of my favorite book.
I remember the way you used to look at me.
I remember the way used to talk to me.
I remember the way you used to love me.
Oh, God. These memories are eating me alive.
Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.
You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.
You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.
You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.
A very good way of going about explaining this issue. It’s good to see something positive come from Tumblr.
HOLY SHIT. THIS. THIS IS WHAT I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO TELL PEOPLE. SHUT YOUR MOUTH ABOUT MEN VS WOMEN. @_@
this is literally so important
i love kissing so much how it can be soft and romantic or hard and passionate or lazy and sleepy or affectionate and then it’s like you like the person and they like you because you are kissing and it’s just you two and you can close your eyes and there will be nothing in the world except that