- hello Heather Alice
- Username: HeatherAlice
- In response to: "Who are you?" Heather. 21 Years Old. I'd like to think I've got myself all figured out, but I don't. I've got baggage, we all do & I'm currently in the process of unpacking & sorting through my own.
- HeatherAlice's latest answers
- Where's the 'undo' button?
do you remember how you felt when you called me at 3am in tears?
- I can explain
We all know what’s happening here because it’s happened before. Like an avalanche, there’s nothing we can do about it so we don’t even need to speak. But this time, if we’re covered by the ice and snow, I will hold you tight. I will keep you warm.
“Love” has so many misconceptions, it’s distorted, almost to the point that the passion of its original intent is gone. But I love you.
And here we are again, completely naked, completely vulnerable. But still, you’re ripping the layers off me. Who I am and who I used to be, leaving me completely raw. your pulling my trembling body to yours, touching me, but not with your hands. Eyes full of old regrets and memories,looking up at you. That look telling me more than your mouth ever could.. some things speak for themselves and others are never spoken of. I’ll understand your silence. Because sometimes, you’ll have to understand mine.
I don’t know if you felt that or not.
But it felt like two people kissing after hours of thinking about it.
It felt like two people talking after nights of silence.
It felt like two people touching after weeks of being numb.
It felt like two people facing each other after months of looking away.
It felt like two people in love after years of being alone.
And it felt like two people meeting each other, after an entire lifetime of not meeting each other.
That's how I felt when I met you. It's how I still feel now.
- You learn something new every day
You came into my life by accident.
You stayed on purpose.
I love you for that.
- That Scar of Mine. You can't see it, but I can describe it to you.
My biggest scars can not be seen simply by looking at my body. The bad news is, your choices and intentions, some people and places, those nights spent awake and all you’ve done, can lead you to the bottom of the pit.
The good news is, this wouldn’t be the first time someone’s crawled, tooth and nail, out of hell.
Let me tell you something. I’m no threat. I’m simply a girl with the potential to ruin your life or better it. I have the capability to do either of these things, but you must take into account that it is most likely I will do neither. I always let my apprehension decide for me that I don’t want to try for fear of coming short of expectations.
There are about a million reasons to love someone and even more reasons to hate them: It is all a matter of which reasons you find more important.Your time is consumed by coffee and contemplations and people who will just disappear in a month or a year. Nothing lasts forever and nobody sticks around for real, it’s all a game and eventually that game ends and you are alone again.
Maybe I just feel more than everyone else; maybe I’m not losing my mind. Maybe it’s everyone else that is just preoccupied with nonsense and I’m above it. I just want to write, run, and disappear; I don’t want to talk about clothes or the weather. One of the worse feelings you can have is when you start questioning the feelings you have.
I rarely write or say what is actually on my mind. I will say crude things, I will say humorous things; but nothing that holds any weight. I’m scared to death of rejection and having any emotional attachment to anything. So I keep myself guarded and I keep you far away from me. I push and I push until everyone is on the edge of a cliff, far far away from my heart. Its a trait that will be the end of me, but I can’t stop it. I can't have been ruined by every lie I've ever been told, every hand that's been placed upon my shoulder; I feel like a fraud because he still wants me.
To be continued.
There are four things you cannot recover in life; the stone after its thrown, the word afters its said, the occasion after its missed, the time after its gone.