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dabbling in reverie

The musings of a small town 20 something working on some colorful patches to add to her quilt of life. Warning: the occasional elephant will be passing through

Theme by Theme Static

I feel like one of those prehistoric bugs trapped in amber. My wings are frozen in flight and I’m using every ounce of energy I have to move forward, but it’s a useless battle. And time just scares me. It’s as if with every passing hour, minute, second the distance from the time where we were stretches even thinner and I know that eventually the fraying thread that connects us could snap. And like with many beautiful memories we’ll be swept along the river of time, flowing downstream and barely fighting against the current until we wind up collecting in the pool of hazy shadows that swirl and blend everything into a foggy past. We’ll slip from what was real to what is nostalgia. Our brief time and story will sit untouched on a shelf, collecting dust, its pages yellowing and curling in on themselves with age. Little reminders working like portals will pull us back for the briefest of moment, for a moment lifting the layer of grime and we’ll smile and think remember when.

Remember when there was her.

Remember when there was him.

Remember when there was us.

I imagine I can see the river pulling you away from me, carrying you closer and closer to the looming horizon that will allow only a bittersweet sting of melancholy every now and then. For now I’m rooted on the banks refusing to let the memories fade, watching time fly past me, refusing to let us get carried away with it. I’m forever lingering in your dawn lit dormitory listening to the morning bells toll and watching a smile form on your lips that shines a light far brighter than that of the rising sun. And maybe, just maybe, I’m not alone. Maybe you’re rooted on the other side, wondering if I’m ready to let the river take me while you’re still retracing our dizzy steps through the cobbled streets over and over again.

The only moment taken by the river, our goodbye. 

But that’s the funny thing about destiny, it happens whether you plan it or not. I mean, I never thought I’d see that girl again, but it turns out I was just too close to the puzzle to see the picture that it was forming. Because that, kids, is the true story story of how I met your Aunt Robin.

How I Met Your Mother, Pilot Episode 

Duh!

Paris - Magic Man

It’s just a fantasy, taking over like a disease 
Pull me out of this I can’t breath 
It’s burning through my chest

I know that’s what people say— you’ll get over it. I’d say it, too. But I know it’s not true. Oh, youll be happy again, never fear. But you won’t forget. Every time you fall in love it will be because something in the man reminds you of him.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn 
Cecily Brown, Couple

Cecily Brown, Couple

Happy Valentine’s Day How I Met Your Mother Style

So instead of being a whiney single girl on Valentine’s day, I’m going to appreciate the meaning of it (and the chocolate it comes with) and enjoy the lovey dovey atmosphere all around me tomorrow. Whether you’re single or happily in love, I wanted to share this great speech that Klaus makes in Season 8 episode 1. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone :)

"There is a word in German- lesbenslangerschicksalsschatz- and the closest translation would be like long treasure of destiny…It’s not something that develops over time. It’s something that happens instantaneously. It courses through you like the water of a river after a storm, filling you and emptying you all at once. You feel it throughout your body, in your hands, in your heart, in you stomach, in your skin. If you have to think about it, you have not felt it. Of course you’ll find it someday. Everyone does eventually, you just never know when or where." 

I’ve known you all my life, yet I feel I’ll never really know you

You cannot change the past.

The time lost is gone, and it is pointless to attempt to recapture it.

But the future can be molded. 

And I will make the effort.

Because when you’re gone, I don’t want to blame myself for the lack of relationship that existed. I do not want to be able to say, “Sarah, it’s your fault. You didn’t try.” I refuse to live with that regret.

When I look at you, I see one flat color. I want to know the variations, the hues of your shadows, and the shifts from dark to light. I want to be able to fill up a book with words to describe you, instead of writing a simple and sparse chapter. I want to use all the potential love I hold for you. 

I don’t want to lose you and have to ask who you were. I want to undeniably know.  

All I really want is for you to want to know me too. 

it’s been two years since I saw this skyline, I just want to go back