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Love a Girl Who Writes

Love a girl who writes. She can take you to many places. She can live your million dreams. She can enjoy your silence. She will always hear your words. Love a girl who writes. She writes because you exist. She knows you deserve all the best words and she will use them all for you. She can read you even if you cover yourself with pretensions and disguise; with rumors and lies.

Love a girl who writes because she will always believe that you are wonderful…even if you are not. She will always write good things about you even if there is not too plenty of it. Because you are the main character in her book. Love her. Because once you do,  you will always be significant.

The Rebirth of Summertime Sadness

Can you feel it? The burning sensation of the summer heat?

It’s exciting and alarming all at once.

It causes my heart to beat faster than usual remembering that one summer in my life. That summer that is different from any other summer. That summer when the heat burned twice as much or even more; because it burned not just my skin but also my heart. It left me some scars. It haunts me every now and then like a horror story with an open end. Nobody knows what happened to the characters. Nobody knows what happened next. Nobody knows what happened after she stopped crying behind closed doors. Nobody knows what happened during winter and how she convinced herself that she’s fine. Nobody understands what really happened. Nobody tried.

My mind is so full of voices saying “Find out what happened. Open that door again. It’s not yet the end. Remember everything. Rewrite it. Choose how it ends.” I am overwhelmed by my own thoughts that I forget the much quieter voice saying “Keep calm because it’s over.”

I don’t know why am I remembering this now. But, every time the sun beams at me, it brings sadness that I don’t understand. Every time I stare at it, I see you and it hurts my eyes. I can always choose to look away but I keep on looking because that is my only way to remember you. Because that is who you are, a painful memory.

Then, I remember winter, the cold breeze that calmed my soul, the freezing cold that numbed my heart, the comforting warm hugs that melted the ice that imprisoned my heart and set it free, the strong wind that blew every bad memory away, the gloomy nights that allowed me to cry and gave a much deeper meaning to loneliness, the longer nights that enabled me to hug myself longer in bed (self love).

I think about all the good things that happened right after that summer. They’re so good, I don’t really wanna know what truly happened on that particular summer at all.

Summertime Sadness? Uhhmmm… how about No?