martes, 1 de enero de 2013
I’m coming for you, you.
If you’d dissect my head, you’d find songs.
If I put half the energy I do when missing you into telling you, well, we might have something.
Te quiero porque las pendejaces bochornosas que hago en mi cuarto sola son cosas que no me molestaría compartir contigo.
Now it’s time to realize we’re growing up, and that wisdom lurks around the corner to take if you’re willing.
The ‘put phone on vibrate’ trick in order to avoid my phone and text more than I should is not working, since I’ve learnt the distinct noise of the vibration and jump on it’s resonation, all of this hoping it’s you.
I love home, I absolutely do.
But with all there is to miss, it’s the little things that can make you completely nostalgic when you least expect it. Like the feeling of wet sand rubbing against your toes, or the both cool and warm sensations your skin experiences after a long day at the beach. The amazing heat against your skin, and also the cool breeze that fiddles around to make it bearable.
And looking out to the horizon and seeing how sea blends with land oh-so-perfectly.
I love home.
It is said that it is better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.
I really do hope so.