blossomfully:

Sue Zhao

:

summer moments of magic ☄️

by tania joy gault~

definegodliness:

“Had I not seen you with my own eyes, how would I have ever believed you to be real? But you were real, weren’t you? Right now I find that as much as I had doubted the good nature of humans before I met you, I am starting to doubt the reality of your existence entirely. You have been out of my life for such a prolonged period of time that I have developed a need to question my memory about the day I found out about you. To forget my soul’s rejoicing about your living in the same timeframe as I do. To forget my soul entirely. Surely, light could not have flown from your body in whirling waves of golden when I first saw you. It’s all in my head, right? There could not have been this greater quiescence in my mind that is habitually ridden with constant contemplations. Your smile must have been one of politeness, not one designed by the instant and total infatuation that took a hold of me; that made me feel grander and braver than I had ever been. I must ask myself, did I factually feel grander and braver? Was it love at all that caused the sensation? Or was it simply my resignation in despair that silenced every aggravation; every shard of anxiety in my being. That is after all how you first encountered me. Think of it. How rare and peculiar – how unlikely – it is to find someone embodying light; advocating the voice of hope in times of solemn need. Someone who annihilates every flesh eating demon and strengthens the spirit with long forgotten vigor. With an unknown determination to burst out in the same cleansing incandescence. All to defend what’s good and righteous in the world; to protect the last angel who makes the world holy. How the cynic trembles when returning to the lost core of idealism. Ah, I must remind myself. When things are too good to be true, they usually are too good to be true. Dare I still believe in our fairy tale I would now recall how I had first seen you in a juvenile feverish dream. How I had noticed that I always heard your voice inside my head whenever I read feminine spoken parts of stories. How it felt to be the center of gravity when I met you, feeling everything that naturally belonged violently smash back into me. A vast contracting of the boundless possibilities of every known and unknown galaxy, that would burst out into one universal truth. There I was one, and a part of you. As you were a part of me. As we had always been. As we had always meant to be. How can I keep the memory of such a powerful sense of belonging? Of knowing. I cannot. Though letting go is an act of great reluctance. Had I not sought you all my life, it would have been easier to accept your existence; to accept there is one sheer magical being out there that befits me to perfection. A being that I likewise befit to perfection. No, I have no choice, I must doubt your reality to the point of forgetting. I must doubt every remnant of love, magic, and anything that makes life extraordinary that has remained in my recollection. How would I otherwise be able to live on, knowing that we are squandering our lives apart from each other? I must accept that the fairy tale part of life is over. That we aren’t at that part of the romance novel where we struggle but realize we were always meant for each other. We are long past the last chapter. It is time for life and love to become normal. We weren’t destined to rival the works of greatest passion. We weren’t meant to love so madly that aeons from now the poets would write about us. We weren’t meant to. And I must forget that we could have.”

— What we’ve lost, by M.A. Tempels © 2017 (via definegodliness)

rachelle-on-the-run:

pastabot:

reblog if your birthday is not today

Originally posted by mind-not-found