(no subject)
I find that work is a good place to write journal entries. True, there's little inspiration but the long periods of nothing-to-do followed by the deafening silence affords me a lot of time to think.
I guess, in the end, all of us are just looking for love. Our everyday endeavors, our searches for satisfaction are really just quests to find The One. Flip the claddagh, say " I love you." hug hug, kiss kiss. The random hook-up you hope will turn into love. The names, initials scribbled passionately over every available writing space. The late night conversations, whispered to be kept private. Long looks to be remembered deliciously for when separated again. Desire to be holding hands, not knowing how to initiate touch. Lips begging to be kissed, yet fearful to be the one to begin. A million things left unsaid, when saying them might change everything. For the better. For the worst.
Feeling love, but never admitting that you do. Realizing that it was not love you felt, but close enough.
Wanting sucks. Wanting love, wanting freedom, wanting sex, wanting peace, relief, sleep. Love doesn't suck. Wanting sucks. Wanting things to be the way they were, wanting the past, wanting the pain to be gone.
Sappy lyrics, ridiculously mushy heartfelt posts on LJ :). Initials, hearts, love quotes, dates left on AIM profiles and away messages, proud announcements of love. Messages of hurt and pain, there to let the world know how much it hurts that it's over.
Indifference. Playing hard-to-get. Casual exchange of cell phone numbers.Turn up the volume, put it on "vibrate" anything not to miss the call. Miss the call on purpose. Call back flippantly, claiming noise, fun, friends, distractions! Anything to to appear unavailable. Making plans, breaking plans. Coming home early to just hear the voice you can't get out of your head. Buying gifts, taking mementos. "Borrowing" clothes not because they are comfortable but because they are comforting. Every girl knows that nothing smells better than her boyfriend.
Hands. Fingers. Lips. Eyes. Arms. Chest. Stomach. Possession. Belonging. Adoring. Run your fingers through hair, let hands slide up well-muscled chest, down strong back. Link hands behind the neck that fascinates you so.
Poke. Pinch. Tease. Hands on hands, knees, arms in laughter. Anything to touch that skin, that body, that soul you adore. Steal the hat, tease, laugh, make flirtatious insults, flip your hair, get his attention. Keep his attention, because he's got your's.
So you know who you are. You inspire me. I know what I want.
I guess, in the end, all of us are just looking for love. Our everyday endeavors, our searches for satisfaction are really just quests to find The One. Flip the claddagh, say " I love you." hug hug, kiss kiss. The random hook-up you hope will turn into love. The names, initials scribbled passionately over every available writing space. The late night conversations, whispered to be kept private. Long looks to be remembered deliciously for when separated again. Desire to be holding hands, not knowing how to initiate touch. Lips begging to be kissed, yet fearful to be the one to begin. A million things left unsaid, when saying them might change everything. For the better. For the worst.
Feeling love, but never admitting that you do. Realizing that it was not love you felt, but close enough.
Wanting sucks. Wanting love, wanting freedom, wanting sex, wanting peace, relief, sleep. Love doesn't suck. Wanting sucks. Wanting things to be the way they were, wanting the past, wanting the pain to be gone.
Sappy lyrics, ridiculously mushy heartfelt posts on LJ :). Initials, hearts, love quotes, dates left on AIM profiles and away messages, proud announcements of love. Messages of hurt and pain, there to let the world know how much it hurts that it's over.
Indifference. Playing hard-to-get. Casual exchange of cell phone numbers.Turn up the volume, put it on "vibrate" anything not to miss the call. Miss the call on purpose. Call back flippantly, claiming noise, fun, friends, distractions! Anything to to appear unavailable. Making plans, breaking plans. Coming home early to just hear the voice you can't get out of your head. Buying gifts, taking mementos. "Borrowing" clothes not because they are comfortable but because they are comforting. Every girl knows that nothing smells better than her boyfriend.
Hands. Fingers. Lips. Eyes. Arms. Chest. Stomach. Possession. Belonging. Adoring. Run your fingers through hair, let hands slide up well-muscled chest, down strong back. Link hands behind the neck that fascinates you so.
Poke. Pinch. Tease. Hands on hands, knees, arms in laughter. Anything to touch that skin, that body, that soul you adore. Steal the hat, tease, laugh, make flirtatious insults, flip your hair, get his attention. Keep his attention, because he's got your's.
So you know who you are. You inspire me. I know what I want.