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Jammeh

@fifthofdecemberr / fifthofdecemberr.tumblr.com

Physiotherapist | 22 | Always sleepy
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What is this place between hopeless romantic and strong independent individual

It’s spending your weekends entertaining no one but yourself. It’s getting misty eyed at the thought of growing old alone. It’s strolling around the city wearing earbuds while people watching. It’s cherishing your platonic friendships and not secretly wanting more. It’s coming up with a funny joke late at night and wishing you had someone to share it with before you forget. It’s arriving and leaving parties whenever you feel like it. It’s a romantic song playing and you wishing it were socially acceptable to slow dance on your own. It’s rolling to the cold side of the bed when the morning sun tickles your face. It’s getting sleepy while driving late at night and pulling over at almost every stop to grab a coffee. It’s the excitement of walking into a bar and scanning the room. It’s the late nights spent wondering if love is reserved for the deserving. It’s shaking those thoughts off in the morning because you know what you deserve. 

It’s looking around the empty room when you’re crying and laughing with a new set of characters at 3 am to look for someone to share that feeling with and then quickly realising you don’t want to share this story with another person at all

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serpentkisss

It’s the lightness that you experience as you look up at the night sky or the city lights and find yourself mesmerized in silence; and for that brief moment, you feel relieved that no one else is there to interrupt your private thoughts. It’s the warmth in your stomach when you get ready each morning and wonder, “what if I meet someone new today?” And it’s the bittersweet comfort you feel, trickle down your throat, when you come home alone and conclude that you weren’t quite ready for that yet anyway. It’s sitting by the window every morning with a cup of tea and quietly watching as the steam glides across the glass and flushes against your skin. And it’s the empowerment of getting to experiment with yourself and become someone new without worry of displeasing a significant other.

It’s the watching movies alone and skipping parts and not feeling guilty about it. It’s weird and wholesome. You share a part of yourself with every lonely traveller. It’s dancing alone in your room. And having a million pillows on your bed. It’s warm and it’s open and inviting. It’s like childhood all over again. Want to collect pebbles? Sure? Want to be a friend. Here hold my hand. It’s okay to say goodbye! I’m excited. Maybe a little sad. But still who knows what the next second brings?

It’s the rustling quit of the night and you read poetry to yourself in the warm glow of candlelight. All are welcome! Stay for a while. Take my hand.

It’s the ache of the warmth of a dream you had of someone holding you, but waking up alone. It’s the constant battle between yearning and contentment. It’s being touch starved but shrinking away from physical affection. It’s looking up at the sky and hurting. It’s beautiful things making you a little sad. It’s not fully understanding yourself but knowing you’re the only person who can handle you at your worst. It’s wanting someone, anyone to truly see you, but not wanting people to see the pain in your eyes. It’s itching for adventure, recklessness, something more, but being caged. It’s wanting to be known but feeling unknowable. Its the feeling of missing someone you’ve never met. It’s music clawing at your throat trying to be released. It’s wanting…..always wanting. An itch you can’t scratch. Just out of your reach….. it’s unbearable. But you bear it.

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almondgaze

Singing sad romantic songs by the windowsill and dancing to beats at the same night without worrying about waking anyone. Being touch starved but also not wanting to be too attached to anyone. It’s wanted to share your excitement with someone about the show you watched 15 times and cried each time but it would feel like a betrayal if they don’t appreciate it the same way

It’s pulling your blanket a little bit tighter on cold nights while wishing there were arms around you, but waking up glad you don’t owe your time to anyone while snuggling in with a good book.

It’s listening to music quietly while reading romance novels with a cup of tea in a storm, content but longing for that connection with someone, at the same time thankful that you can feel again.

it’s looking out the window from your dorm room and seeing distant streetlights through the mist that looks like a city on the other bank of a river that is the night. it’s a dim laptop screen and moonlight being the only illumination in the room. it’s your roommate coming back kinda giggly and sad and speaking in low tones with voice raspy from the joints. it’s the silence that you speak to her best in and when she lets out a sigh, it’s a click of the lighter and the sound of the cigarette crinkling as you take a deep drag. it’s the line formed by the silhouette of your arm as you hand it to her to take and she accepts with a watery smile

it’s the muted sound of videogame shooting and pitter patter of typing out an essay as the cigarette is passed

It is eating your breakfast alone, reading and writing withou having to think about lunch. It is laughing at your own silly jokes and contemplating the waves at the beach. Is feeling pretty and beeing pretty just for yourself, just for the power and individuality it brings you. It is playing the guitar badly but enjoying every single seccond of it. And at the end of the day, even if you loved doing all of that alone, you wish you could share these moments, write with someone, be at the sea with someone, wake up at night with someone. But you dont know yet who.

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2two

it’s the yearning for love as you learn to love yourself along the way.

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reblogged
This person, this self, this me, finally, was made somewhere else. Everything had come from somewhere else, and it would all go somewhere else. I was nothing but a pathway for the person known as me.

Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

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reblogged
Why didn't I learn to treat everything like it was the last time. My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future.

Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

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When you stand in front of me and look at me, what do you know of the griefs that are in me and what do I know of yours?

Franz Kafka, from a letter to Oskar Pollak, November 8, 1903

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qvotable
“There’s a corner of my heart that is yours. And I don’t mean for now, or until I’ve found somebody else, I mean forever. I mean to say that whether I fall in love a thousand times over or once or never again, there’ll always be a small quiet place in my heart that belongs only to you.”

— Beau Taplin

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lowkysad

We are sitting on your bed, there is distance between us and the silence is suffocating me. I am holding my knees to my chest. My body is shaking; you are quiet. I ask you if you still love me, and you tell me that you are not sure that you ever did.

- Mariah Gordon-Dyke

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paralumaan

𝗙𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲’𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗛𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗛𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗲𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝗶𝗱:

𝙄𝙩’𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠, 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙤 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙢𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜.

𝗦𝗼 𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗻 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗹𝘆.

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