You might think i write about you....
COEXIST
When we talk you make me cut my thoughts down
and only use words with 2 syllables
and every time we kiss, I can feel you
forcing my tongue back into my mouth
Last week when we hugged, you didn’t want to
squeeze me, when we discussed you didn’t want to argue with me, when we made
love, you didn’t love me - how could you, when you never tried to get to know
me.
You carry me around with you like I’d wear a
handbag.
You like to look at me, but can’t be bothered to listen.
My IQ is higher than my weight and that scares you.
Numbers in general confuse you, you can’t even remember how many girlfriends you had.
I hate your guts, like you hate everything that’s on my inside.
I can’t stand your shallowness,I’m tired of sitting through your football matches and
you get sick trying to grasp my abstract questions, are bored listening to my silly theories.
You like to look at me, but can’t be bothered to listen.
My IQ is higher than my weight and that scares you.
Numbers in general confuse you, you can’t even remember how many girlfriends you had.
I hate your guts, like you hate everything that’s on my inside.
I can’t stand your shallowness,I’m tired of sitting through your football matches and
you get sick trying to grasp my abstract questions, are bored listening to my silly theories.
We have no intersection.
But remember, we’re not straight* lines.
We don’t need to have a crossing point to connect.
On the other hand, we’re not parallels either, we’ll never face the same direction.
Then how do we coexist?
But remember, we’re not straight* lines.
We don’t need to have a crossing point to connect.
On the other hand, we’re not parallels either, we’ll never face the same direction.
Then how do we coexist?
I JUST WRITE ABOUT MYSELF
You might think I write about
you.
Because that’s what we poets do.
You cut us open and we bleed right onto the paper.
That’s why writing seems so effortless - all we do is document and rephrase and present it as an original piece of art.
Plot twist - You’ll never find other people in one of my pieces,
even if you think you recognize yourself,
even if I quote you and post our whole conversation on the internet.
I never write about you.
I use parts of you i find in myself
and stick them on other things, that bother me,
to create the monster within I want to kill, so I could sleep at night.
If I write about your beautiful sense of humor, your lovely heart,
your amazing strength and all your other flaws,
I actually talk about how easy it is to break me. How easy I bent.
You could hug me and stab the knife in my back
and I’d thank you, for touching me.
You could stand in front of me, with a gun in your hand
and I’d think I deserve it, because I’m an easy target.
You could kill me by pulling the trigger
and I’ll still blame me, because I didn’t run fast enough.
I just write about myself,
even if I use your name to describe my weakness.
Because that’s what we poets do.
You cut us open and we bleed right onto the paper.
That’s why writing seems so effortless - all we do is document and rephrase and present it as an original piece of art.
Plot twist - You’ll never find other people in one of my pieces,
even if you think you recognize yourself,
even if I quote you and post our whole conversation on the internet.
I never write about you.
I use parts of you i find in myself
and stick them on other things, that bother me,
to create the monster within I want to kill, so I could sleep at night.
If I write about your beautiful sense of humor, your lovely heart,
your amazing strength and all your other flaws,
I actually talk about how easy it is to break me. How easy I bent.
You could hug me and stab the knife in my back
and I’d thank you, for touching me.
You could stand in front of me, with a gun in your hand
and I’d think I deserve it, because I’m an easy target.
You could kill me by pulling the trigger
and I’ll still blame me, because I didn’t run fast enough.
I just write about myself,
even if I use your name to describe my weakness.
EVERYTHING I WRITE ABOUT IS A LIE
every kiss I adore, has never
been on my lips, every guy I write about, doesn’t exist,
every break up I describe, never happened, every love story I tell, is fiction.
every friend I mention is a ghost and dusty memories,
every me is just high hopes and alcohol,
every feeling I lay down for you to relate is just the same
ever so old emotional crap you’ll find in
every book in the library.
every line is full of clichés and ripped off a damn love song.
every scene you might picture has already been in a movie,
every character I describe didn’t die nor has ever been alive.
everything I write about, is a lie.
every time I’ll twist reality,turn it,distort it, until it bleeds into my
everywhere, my heart and I can cry out
every word of pain, I never felt.
every person in my poems is just another part of me.
every ex-boyfriend who I never truely loved? That was myself I didn’t like.
every lover, that I couldn’t let go? Again, just me, fighting for my own life.
every friend, who abandoned me? I’m the only one who ever hurt me.
everything I write about is a lie.
Never loved anyone enough, to let them break my heart.
Never wrote anything sincere.
Never spoke the truth.
Never said I would now.
every break up I describe, never happened, every love story I tell, is fiction.
every friend I mention is a ghost and dusty memories,
every me is just high hopes and alcohol,
every feeling I lay down for you to relate is just the same
ever so old emotional crap you’ll find in
every book in the library.
every line is full of clichés and ripped off a damn love song.
every scene you might picture has already been in a movie,
every character I describe didn’t die nor has ever been alive.
everything I write about, is a lie.
every time I’ll twist reality,turn it,distort it, until it bleeds into my
everywhere, my heart and I can cry out
every word of pain, I never felt.
every person in my poems is just another part of me.
every ex-boyfriend who I never truely loved? That was myself I didn’t like.
every lover, that I couldn’t let go? Again, just me, fighting for my own life.
every friend, who abandoned me? I’m the only one who ever hurt me.
everything I write about is a lie.
Never loved anyone enough, to let them break my heart.
Never wrote anything sincere.
Never spoke the truth.
Never said I would now.
Something about change.
Things change all the time. All we do is waiting for change.
And we can’t deal with it.
People walk in and out of our lives, leave memories and photographs behind or just disappear into nothing.
This
changes us, for better or for worse. But not enough, to not miss the old times.
How it was before always seems so much better. Most of the time it wasn’t that good though, but
we are nostalgic creatures and why live in the moment if you can relive the
past a thousand times until you can’t breathe anymore.
Missing
people is hard and it’s the worst kind of pain, because you can’t take the
cause away, they already left you, you can’t take pills or any medication for it, and it probably will
happen to you more than you want it to.
What I’m
trying to say here is, that we’ll soon be missing someone, on top of the person
you might be missing already.
Let’s say goodbye to Henni who’ll take a break from this blogging experience.
A long holiday. A very long break. Kinda like a few months.
I’ll try and keep up the schedule, see ya soon \o/
Let’s say goodbye to Henni who’ll take a break from this blogging experience.
A long holiday. A very long break. Kinda like a few months.
I’ll try and keep up the schedule, see ya soon \o/
Sex sells - Who are we judging more,the producer or the consumer?
Now would be the perfect time for a disclaimer: [Right now, as i'm editing this, i'm deliriously tired, the english language is a mystery to me and i make probably 26478 mistakes - forgive me]
I don’t know enough about the human mind, to understand the fascination or the motivation behind it completely, and let’s not even start with the whole machinery, the system behind manipulating and providing the service of making things seem like something, to get the right thing out of it. I won’t talk about the way some people in this business might be treated, the health or mental issues, the suicide rates, or how much the human rights of the actresses/actors are respected in general. That’s a whole other topic.
There are different ways of selling yourself and I’ve written the following thoughts down, after watching too many documentaries about weird jobs, manipulating personalities and extraordinary lifestyles, so be warned, it may get confusing.
But let’s start simple: Sex sells. We all know this phrase and most of us believe in it.
It seems so naïve, to think that the human kind, which has brought the world scientist and philosophers, still is most influenced by the simple act of reproducing and everything associated with it, but it is the truth. We are slaves to our hormones and willing to give in to those simple pleasures of bodily functions.
Pornography, does this even need explaining? It’s about selling the (pretended) act of sex via webcam, photos, videos on the internet or even in real life.
Think about it for a moment.
Who started this? When did people decide to make sex a business?
Is it a clever investment, to give yourself to a industry, that makes tons of money with a “dirty”image and dealing with things you may never be able to address in public or only in front of a certain group of people (hey, the positive side; there will probably always be a market for it)?
Why is it a taboo?
Do you have second thoughts about whether it’s “right” or does it collide with you religion or moral concept?
If so,why? What makes you think, that naked bodies and sexualizing or objectiving human beings is wrong?
How do you feel reading this?
Excited? Ashamed?
Which part disgusts you? The (wo)man who performs the sexual act, or the person who finds pleasure in watching it?
Which one
is the “better” person? Which one is ‘above’ or ‘under’ the other ( no pun intended),
in control and earns the money?
Which one are you?
This is a general question in life, who are we judging more? The producer or the consumer?
Which one are you?
This is a general question in life, who are we judging more? The producer or the consumer?
One thing that I’ve witnessed multiply times is the fact that (mostly) women are living out stereotypes and clichés, to satisfy the sexual needs of the other gender, to manipulate and play with thoughts and fulfilling fantasies, to get money for their bills.
I thought a while now about this topic and until this day I’m very ambivalent about how some people chose to make their living – not because I have such high morals (haha,let’s be honest) but because of how it shapes society.
Rinsing, the act of using your feminine charme and beauty to get money from (rich) men.
It’s never connected with sex. The women know this. No physically affection, no making out, just talking and friendship. They allow the men to spend time with them and to shower them in gifts.
The simple deal of: you can admire her and decorate yourselves with a pretty girl. Nothing more.
Is it a power thing? A way to feel alive?
Do guys think, they can buy affection and sexual favors with money and courtesy?
Do women think, they really have that much power and control about the male, heterosexual population, that they can use them, based on the theory that they are superficial and think with their penis?
Do people on either side have had a traumatic childhood, a mental problem or is there any psychological explanation joining this business?
Are those people less worthy than others?
And who exactly sells and gains what? Souls? Bodies? Time? Love?
On the one hand, I’m deeply impressed by those women, who can play their charm and their attractiveness to make a living out of basically nothing, out of just existing and smiling and making men believe, that there is something, that actually does not exist.
On the other hand the thought of people being able to act a certain way and doing everything, just to make other people believe something, to be someone they are clearly not for the entertainment of others disturbs me and I was utterly shocked by how far and popular this has gotten.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m aware of the fact, that acting and the whole movie industry is based on people playing pretend, but the difference between cinematic art and real life performances is that the actors and the viewers all know that it’s only fiction, whereas the victims and aren’t always enlightened about what’s going on, because that’s the trick.
Another disclaimer: I have no clue, if everybody knows exactly what’s happening, nor am I sure that I know it, I’m questioning if the following transactions are a fair deal, or if it’s even safe to play pretend, because remember, not everybody knows who else is wearing a mask.
Why is it
happening? Is it a biological thing? Something only our society has?
Some of the
documentaries, I’ve watched or some of the articles I read about this topic
have been so far from the reality that i experienced, I’d never thought, that
there were people who would pay lots of money, to see someone talking,
masturbating or just existing, who’d spend their time and effort in presents
for complete strangers without seeing them ever in their life and just getting
high on the thought of influencing them.
It all
seems so weird to me – but is it that really? Don’t most of us pay a huge amount
of money each year to watch movies or go on concerts? Is this kind of
performance really sooo different?
Aren’t we all constantly watching and interacting with other human beings? Why are some things taboos and other pop culture?
Where is the borderline between rinsing or porn and movie stars or singers?
Aren’t we all constantly watching and interacting with other human beings? Why are some things taboos and other pop culture?
Where is the borderline between rinsing or porn and movie stars or singers?
Is it so
morally wrong and sick, or are those people just honest and show us our real selves –
manipulative, twisted minded ,horny, desperate for attention and affection?
Maybe we are the actors in our daily lives, maybe we hide behind masks of innocence.
Perhaps we only pretend to be “better” but on the inside we can relate to one of those sides, or even both and would do everything they do in a heartbeat, if we only had the opportunity?
Has this blogpost been controversial?
Unusual? Unexpected?
Why?
Think about it, before you judge.
manipulative, twisted minded ,horny, desperate for attention and affection?
Maybe we are the actors in our daily lives, maybe we hide behind masks of innocence.
Perhaps we only pretend to be “better” but on the inside we can relate to one of those sides, or even both and would do everything they do in a heartbeat, if we only had the opportunity?
Has this blogpost been controversial?
Unusual? Unexpected?
Why?
Think about it, before you judge.
On being honest and being harmful - the difference between being a good friend and being an asshole
It’s actually so easy.
Strange people who insult you? Ignore them.
They mean nothing to you and so should their words.
Friends or people, you are close to, that insult you? Make them to strangers.
Kick them out of your life, you don’t need them and they don’t deserve you.
Strange people who insult you? Ignore them.
They mean nothing to you and so should their words.
Friends or people, you are close to, that insult you? Make them to strangers.
Kick them out of your life, you don’t need them and they don’t deserve you.
Because there’s a difference between being rude and sharing positive
criticism.
There’s a difference between
“I think you can do this better, maybe try it again and change xyz”
and “I hate your feathered wings, they’re ugly.”
Friends tell you what they really think about something
1. if their input stops you from embarrassing yourself or
2. stops you from making a big mistake that could harm you in the future .
They care about you and have your best interest in mind.
Assholes on the other hand, thoughtlessly present you their unqualified opinion, without considering how you could react to it or how it could make you feel later on.
They don’t care about you.
You probably asked for the first thing.
You wanted an honest opinion on something you work on. The other person answers respectfully, but maybe harsh. You deal with it and consider their advice or tell them, that you don’t feel it. You talk about it. Like two human beings, on the same level, equal.
It’s a dialogue.
You didn’t ask for the second thing.
They just threw it at you. Without respect, a harmful comment.
Probably pointing something out, you are already aware of.
And maybe something you have no influence on. You didn’t choose your wings, you got it from your parents and even they had no saying in this matter.
They don’t expect you to change it or to reply.
What could you even say?
‘Yeah, I’ve already known that for twenty years’ or ‘Oh, I’m sorry that my body is bothering you, how would you like me to look like?’
It probably doesn’t have any sense or goal at all, it’s unnecessary.
It’s not criticisms; it’s just a plain rude monologue.
There’s a difference between
“I think you can do this better, maybe try it again and change xyz”
and “I hate your feathered wings, they’re ugly.”
Friends tell you what they really think about something
1. if their input stops you from embarrassing yourself or
2. stops you from making a big mistake that could harm you in the future .
They care about you and have your best interest in mind.
Assholes on the other hand, thoughtlessly present you their unqualified opinion, without considering how you could react to it or how it could make you feel later on.
They don’t care about you.
You probably asked for the first thing.
You wanted an honest opinion on something you work on. The other person answers respectfully, but maybe harsh. You deal with it and consider their advice or tell them, that you don’t feel it. You talk about it. Like two human beings, on the same level, equal.
It’s a dialogue.
You didn’t ask for the second thing.
They just threw it at you. Without respect, a harmful comment.
Probably pointing something out, you are already aware of.
And maybe something you have no influence on. You didn’t choose your wings, you got it from your parents and even they had no saying in this matter.
They don’t expect you to change it or to reply.
What could you even say?
‘Yeah, I’ve already known that for twenty years’ or ‘Oh, I’m sorry that my body is bothering you, how would you like me to look like?’
It probably doesn’t have any sense or goal at all, it’s unnecessary.
It’s not criticisms; it’s just a plain rude monologue.
Let’s talk about the consequences: Thanks to the freedom of speech, which
at least exists in my country (thank you for that by the way), you can
basically say or write anything as long as you can deal with the aftermath.
So like i already pointed out, I’d probably just drop the person who insulted me and that’s what they would have to live with.
But the other day as we had a conversation about this topic, a friend of mine (shout-out to Petyr – I told you I’d name you) added, that this behaviour can also have a follow-up for you - you may adopt that ‘mistake’ and wear it as an armour or use it as an weapon against someone else.
I know you can’t always control those things, emotional reactions and the ways of the human mind are complex and weird, but however the misfeature of someone else impacts you, you have no right to repeat their way of communication and no excuse to hurt someone else, just because you bleed.
In conclusion: Saying something offensive or wraping the words in bubble wrap or keeping something to yourself isn’t about honesty or pretending to like someone or faking friendship or lying to someone’s face.
This is about trust and respect, the most important things in any human relationship, platonic or not.
You just don’t do such a thing in any working friendship.
Don’t you realize, there are no benefits for you or the person you’re insulting?
But thanks for letting me know, how you feel about my wings.
It’s very important for me, because now I can change it until next time we met.
Oh yeah, wait, I remember.
That’ll be never.
So like i already pointed out, I’d probably just drop the person who insulted me and that’s what they would have to live with.
But the other day as we had a conversation about this topic, a friend of mine (shout-out to Petyr – I told you I’d name you) added, that this behaviour can also have a follow-up for you - you may adopt that ‘mistake’ and wear it as an armour or use it as an weapon against someone else.
I know you can’t always control those things, emotional reactions and the ways of the human mind are complex and weird, but however the misfeature of someone else impacts you, you have no right to repeat their way of communication and no excuse to hurt someone else, just because you bleed.
In conclusion: Saying something offensive or wraping the words in bubble wrap or keeping something to yourself isn’t about honesty or pretending to like someone or faking friendship or lying to someone’s face.
This is about trust and respect, the most important things in any human relationship, platonic or not.
You just don’t do such a thing in any working friendship.
Don’t you realize, there are no benefits for you or the person you’re insulting?
But thanks for letting me know, how you feel about my wings.
It’s very important for me, because now I can change it until next time we met.
Oh yeah, wait, I remember.
That’ll be never.
friends
,
friendship
,
honesty
,
lili
,
relationship
"i promised my mother never to behave self-destructive again, so i left you"
ON BREAKING AND MISSING
I
poured myself into
I
poured myself into
you.
I
crushed my heart
and broke my thoughts down
so I could feed them to
you.
I
gave you all until I felt empty
because you gave me nothing back.
You
let me starve while eating my soul
and puked it right into my face later on.
I
never saw yours.
The more I trusted you, the more I could feel you leaving
and the more I opened up to you, the more I started to miss
you.
But now I think I gave too much of myself away and I'm just missing
me.
crushed my heart
and broke my thoughts down
so I could feed them to
you.
I
gave you all until I felt empty
because you gave me nothing back.
You
let me starve while eating my soul
and puked it right into my face later on.
I
never saw yours.
The more I trusted you, the more I could feel you leaving
and the more I opened up to you, the more I started to miss
you.
But now I think I gave too much of myself away and I'm just missing
me.
WAYS OF SELF-DESTRUCTION
1. The easiest way of suicide is falling in love and then crashing on reality
2. I have the choice whether I want to get smothered by the loneliness or suffocate when my oxygen leaves me again. And I chose to kill myself before anybody else gets the chance.
3. I guess that’s why some people hurt themselves, they rather slit their own wrists and watch the warm life and red passion stream out, than give somebody else the power to destroy them
4. Once life cut so deep in my veins, I called you crying for help and you came over and wrote a poem about the beauty of death, while I was dying.
5. My mother taught me that clinging on a life saver won’t teach you how to swim and that you’ll drown eventually
6. I can’t allow myself the pleasure of counting on someone, of depending on other people - ‘cause i know they gonna leave me and I’m so scared of having happiness in numbered days and then an eternity of sorrow
7. Dealing with the pain you caused is impossible, when you’re my only way of coping and that’s why people overdose on pills and sleep forever instead of staying awake and facing the dark
4. Once life cut so deep in my veins, I called you crying for help and you came over and wrote a poem about the beauty of death, while I was dying.
5. My mother taught me that clinging on a life saver won’t teach you how to swim and that you’ll drown eventually
6. I can’t allow myself the pleasure of counting on someone, of depending on other people - ‘cause i know they gonna leave me and I’m so scared of having happiness in numbered days and then an eternity of sorrow
7. Dealing with the pain you caused is impossible, when you’re my only way of coping and that’s why people overdose on pills and sleep forever instead of staying awake and facing the dark
4
LETTERS
Every time I heard your name and saw the wrong face, i started humming a Nick
Cave song, every time I read those four letters, I tried to carve them into my
flesh because I want to feel close to you again.
I ruined my Marc Jacobs dress , but I just kept bleeding through everything I wear, because Karl Lagerfeld and fashion can go to hell, I’ll be waiting there.
Remember how I wrote you 4 letters, feeling like John Keats, each one explaining how I can’t breathe without you being around and how I’m trying to burry my pain and how I fail at forgetting?
I ruined my Marc Jacobs dress , but I just kept bleeding through everything I wear, because Karl Lagerfeld and fashion can go to hell, I’ll be waiting there.
Remember how I wrote you 4 letters, feeling like John Keats, each one explaining how I can’t breathe without you being around and how I’m trying to burry my pain and how I fail at forgetting?
I've burned every single one of them, let the fire lick the letters of your name
from the page as if it could erase you from my memory as well - like Luke
Skywalker erased the death star from the universe - because I knew you would
have done the same if I’d ever sent them to you.
I’ve met 3 other people with your name since then, one looking like Finn Harries, one singing like Liam Payne and one as famous as Sean Connery, but I’d even ignore James Bond, because none of them are you.
I’ve met 3 other people with your name since then, one looking like Finn Harries, one singing like Liam Payne and one as famous as Sean Connery, but I’d even ignore James Bond, because none of them are you.
Those 4 letters bring this funny taste back into my mouth, sweet and salty,
sugar and tears, I know it’s blood because I bite my tongue to keep me from
screaming.
Change always bothered me, but since you left I can’t stand the stillness. I can’t stop moving or thinking or caring, oh I wish I could just stop caring, like Milo Ventimiglia as Jess Mariano never seemed to give a fuck. You are everywhere, every song is about you and i’m scared of turning on the radio because it might be a love song by Phil Collins and the only sound I want to hear is your voice again.
Change always bothered me, but since you left I can’t stand the stillness. I can’t stop moving or thinking or caring, oh I wish I could just stop caring, like Milo Ventimiglia as Jess Mariano never seemed to give a fuck. You are everywhere, every song is about you and i’m scared of turning on the radio because it might be a love song by Phil Collins and the only sound I want to hear is your voice again.
FIVE
I.
I’m one of those people, who care too much.
While you don’t care at all.
I’ll give you my whole arm, if you need a hand.
I’ll like you from the start and until the end and way too intense.
I’ll grab the numbers out of the clock and stop the sun from setting and the moon from rising with my bare hands,
just for you.
I’ll think about you, and talk about you and just wanna be with you all the time.
While you don’t care at all.
I’ll give you my whole arm, if you need a hand.
I’ll like you from the start and until the end and way too intense.
I’ll grab the numbers out of the clock and stop the sun from setting and the moon from rising with my bare hands,
just for you.
I’ll think about you, and talk about you and just wanna be with you all the time.
II.
Once you betray me, hurt me, disrespect me or make me stop loving myself,
like you stopped loving me,
I’ll kick you the fuck out of my life and out of my body like a cell of cancer.
I’ll cut you off like a diseased limp.
I’ll bleed to death, just to get every piece of you out of my system.
I’ll change my name and face just to cut the association with the person in all those pictures with you, I write our
story down and burn the book, like it’s a way I could erase our past from the world.
like you stopped loving me,
I’ll kick you the fuck out of my life and out of my body like a cell of cancer.
I’ll cut you off like a diseased limp.
I’ll bleed to death, just to get every piece of you out of my system.
I’ll change my name and face just to cut the association with the person in all those pictures with you, I write our
story down and burn the book, like it’s a way I could erase our past from the world.
III.
I may come back to you, after the sea is calm again, after the waves of hate and pain have left me, just like you did.
I’ll give you a second chance. I’ll give you a third chance.
I’ll hand them out like flyer for the party that might be my life, if I could only have you back in it.
I forget the bad memories, paint you with red tears and lonely sunday afternoons on my wrist, hoping the picture
in my head of you could just come alive.
I’ll change the world for you, I’ll change me for you.
I’ll give you a second chance. I’ll give you a third chance.
I’ll hand them out like flyer for the party that might be my life, if I could only have you back in it.
I forget the bad memories, paint you with red tears and lonely sunday afternoons on my wrist, hoping the picture
in my head of you could just come alive.
I’ll change the world for you, I’ll change me for you.
IV.
Then at some point, I’ll let it be.
Because you let me down.
I'm touching the dark fire and feel the burning cold lighten me up
I’m always saying this, that I’ll leave you, give up and stop caring and I never do it,
but one time, after months, maybe years, I will stop dropping everything for you,
pick up my scrambled thoughts like broken eggs, which I’ve bleed out 5 times, since I last saw you
I’m leaving you behind and move on with different people.
Because you let me down.
I'm touching the dark fire and feel the burning cold lighten me up
I’m always saying this, that I’ll leave you, give up and stop caring and I never do it,
but one time, after months, maybe years, I will stop dropping everything for you,
pick up my scrambled thoughts like broken eggs, which I’ve bleed out 5 times, since I last saw you
I’m leaving you behind and move on with different people.
V.
boyfriend
,
break up
,
general trigger
,
lili
,
love
,
poem
,
poetry
,
tw: selfharm
239 Days- What if I had tried harder and you loved louder?
"If today I woke up with you right beside me like all of this was just some twisted dream,
I'd hold you closer than I ever did before
and you'd never slip away."
5 Seconds of Summer- Amnesia
It's been 239 days since you pulled me into your arms and kissed me for the very first time. I've been avoiding this stupid parking lot ever since, because how am I supposed to breathe when I still think I see you walking towards me again and again and again?
It's been 239 days since I've heard you saying my full name for the very first time. That's when I stopped introducing myself with my nickname because your mouth forming the name I hate so much sounded better than every Ed Sheeran song there is.
It's been 239 days since you said you loved me for the very first time. I remember how your skin felt on mine. I can still feel your breath performing this wonderful confession onto my neck.
You always said we were invincible when in fact, we ran out of I love you's like the Titanic ran out of life boats. And I was Mr Andrews, knowing that, if the ship sunk, this beautiful cruise would turn into a massacre. And just like Mr Andrews, I didn't do a thing about it.
The thing about false promises is that with every disappoinment, people love you less. It's like a vase that falls onto the ground over and over again, and it's okay to mend it with duct tape the first couple of times but at some point, you have to accept that you've been too careless with a precious thing, that there's nothing left to mend or save and you have to throw it away. Please don't throw me away. I still have duct tape left.
The worst part is the memory. I can still feel your hands on my skin, your lips on mine. Your laugh is my favourite song to be stuck in my head. How you squeeze your eyes shut when you laugh at me for saying something stupid or falling of the couch. How you said "It would be better if it was over".
The worst part is realising that I have to be my own hero now but where's the point in getting out of bed when you're not there to be proud of me anymore?
All I'm left with now is the memory of sharing the most beautiful feeling with the most beautiful person and all the mighty What-If's.
I wish I had tried harder.
I'm sorry.
boyfriend
,
break up
,
henni
,
relationships
Look at your face, look at your thighs, look at your life - you my dear, need a make-over! - Part 2 of 2
(read part
1 here and thank you to all the open-minded and kind-hearted people who wanted
to join us and took pictures of their naked faces: you are beautiful)
It really is a confidence and self-image thing: If you just decide that you’re beautiful – come on, do it right now – if you just wake up one morning and wear what you want and act like you are the sexiest and prettiest person, even if you don’t feel it, even if you have to fake that self-esteem for a little while and just pretend that you like yourself – other people won’t see the difference - they’ll notice that you feel comfortable in your own skin and see how you move your body and act and I promise you, that your self-love will influence the way others perceive you.
You shouldn’t try to look good for other people, but for yourself – and I think most of us already do that.
We don’t wear make-up to impress a boy or make some girls jealous, we do it, because it makes us look more like the picture we have of ourselves in the head. It might make you more you and you feel better about yourself and when you feel that way on the inside, it shows on the outside.
An important addition: you’re not a special snowflake because you never wear make-up nor should we shame people who don’t – this is a personal choice and you should do whatever floats your boat and wear the amount you feel comfortable with .
What other people decide to put on their face/or don’t put on their face is none of your business.
The reason you might think other people like you, is because you look attractive – but it’s not, it’is because you look confident, centered and collected and maybe even happy and have a positive vibe around you.
That’s what attracts human beings more then 90/60/90 or muscles or a face sculpted by the gods – it’s not the double D or the big D, but two Cs: Confidence and charisma.
I once had a crush on someone who looked like a Greece god and had the perfect human body and a face beyond beauty. I learned quickly, that he had an awful sense of humor, no empathy or interest for anyone whatsoever and was as arrogant as you can get.
My crush on him disappeared faster than John Green can talk.
You can’t change your looks, but you can change your attitude.
That’s something I really want to bring across: looks don’t matter as much as the thoughts in your brain and your behavior towards other people.
Why don’t you compliment someone for an inner quality, for a good idea, a joke, their friendship – yes it’s nice to know that someone likes the way you dress or your lipstick, but clothes change, the memories fade and your hips, your boobs and facial features are not your choice, the way you act is.
You won’t get anywhere when you’re just pretty. But you can achieve a lot with a brain and a heart.
After reading all this, I want you to stop looking in a mirror and start looking into yourself.
Is this what you want to see? Do you like yourself? Are you happy with the way you look? Is this what you want others to “see”? Can you remember the last time you did something for someone, just for the sake of their happiness? Are you someone you would want to be friends with?
So here’s your make-over in 3 easy steps:
First of all, try to love yourself the way others should love you. Admire your curves, the way your hair feels after a shower, appreciate how your eyes catch the light. Accept your weaknesses and nobody can use them against you.
The second step is – be a good person. Be the best version of yourself you can be. Be gentle and caring, listen and talk back, tell jokes but don’t laugh at other people.
It’s the small things that matter.
A smile, a helping hand, give them your heart, your ear and parts of your brain when they need advice.
Or your butt if you’re into that kinda thing.
And the last step is: be patient. Nothing will change overnight, not you, neither humanity, you have to take small steps and it’s a bit of work, but you’ll see, that it’s worth it.
You are not your face or your cup size or your weight, you’re your decisions and feelings and passions and people won’t like you for your looks, but for your love.
Your appearance does not define your present or your future, has nothing to do with the people you want to be surrounded with, your right of a great job or your possibility to be happy.
Watch this:
beauty
,
confidence
,
friends
,
lili
,
make-over
,
make-up
,
Nick Vujicic
,
self esteem
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