Sunshine Lover. Body Shaped Like The Word Devour And I’m Hungry, So Hungry. Sunshine Lover. Come Lay

it’s a sweet little fantasy. the way life runs it’s fingers through my hair and tells me that good things come in threes. the way she tells me cooking is a form of love, that sunday mornings spent in bed is time well spent. that food from my home is the best I can get, all those spices and sweets and freshly baked delights. she tells me that I’ve been working so hard. that this obsession for success is a form of self destruction.

and honestly, I know it is. I know that I destroy myself for a system that could replace me as soon as I falter. but how. how do I find the balance between legacy and enjoyment. how do I hold the little bird between my hands without breaking her wing.

so I wake up early (even on sunday mornings) and force myself to be productive. I order takeout and remind myself to call my mother because I miss the taste of home. I realise the language of my homeland has faded on my tongue. and that I’ve spent so much time outside of the sun that my gold skin has lost its shine.

complacency has made me lose myself.

“They’re all angels.”

— Keanu Reeves when asked what type of girls he likes x

he sighs and whispers that he loves me.

every single wave in the river stopped to watch me blush and crashed again when he leaned in to kiss me. rippled once his lips met mine.

the deep blue reflects onto the sky, the mirror of my soul. I’m ready to drown in this moment. drown in him. our love washes over our names written in the sand

how you move me like the moon moves the waves. how you leave me breathless, like I’ve swam too far from the surface, lost in the blue of your eyes. how the riverbed of my heart crumbles when you touch me.

handing you an orange slice and saying here eat this, my love. the intimacy of the tiniest acts of love between us are deafening. you smile, mouthful of citrus saying thank you for the sweetness, honey. we say we love each other silently, in the small things and without even saying it.

HUNTER SCHAFER for Givenchy at Paris Fashion Week 2019

just to be clear, you can do this too

trigger warning: self harm

it’s been a year since I last hurt myself, an addiction that took all my willpower to overcome. I know I can fashion words into something beautiful but there was nothing pretty about all that self-hatred, all that anger, loss and pain. all that pain coiled in my stomach, gnawing at me from the inside. there was absolutely nothing beautiful about scarring a body that works so hard to keep going. I can’t make this beautiful or romantic or wistful. but it’s over now. I can breathe. I just want to let that fact be.

“(To be loved means to be consumed. To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light. To be loved is to pass away, to love is to endure.)”

— Rainer Maria Rilke, from The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge. (via xshayarsha)

“You once told me that the human eye is god’s loneliest creation. How so much of the world passes through the pupil and still it holds nothing. The eye, alone in its socket, doesn’t even know there’s another one, just like it, an inch away, just as hungry, as empty.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: A Novel

he makes me laugh, head thrown back and eyes alive with happiness. he asks me to come closer when we sleep together, squeezes my hips and grins. he tells me I look beautiful in a black dress and heels with my hair messy and tangled but says he knows I’d look beautiful in anything anyway. he kisses my neck and my thighs and my hands and says “baby, you’re the most lovely thing my body has ever loved”. touches me in a way that makes me think, god even the sun hasn’t spilled her light on me like this.

I can’t tell you what it feels like, to have a boy blush when I kiss him, no memorised pick up lines, sauve attitude or cocky mannerisms. he’s so honest, so raw and passionate. so in love. so in love with me.

I used to think love was this anxiety-inducing dance for two, where everything had to be absolutely perfect. where things are painful and frustrating. where I have to chase and beg and call and entertain and cry and lose. always lose. but he’s right here now, sleeping on my shoulder. soft and sweet, with his arms around me.

and I think he’s going to stay.