Busted Lips and Lust-Bruised Hips - Comments

You are worth the air you breathe.
I could just keep saying it.

Yeah. I think my characters are running away from me though.

Haha. And even when you're the writer?

I guess you're going to have keep saying it because I never truly feel that I am.

Takingbackromance:

More godamn cliff hangers. Damn you, Keighley. But I can't hate you; you're too valuable to me. You make me feel like I'm worth the air I breathe. Thank you.

Anyway, I really want to know what Pete was going to say. Grah.

You are worth the air you breathe. You should know that. If not, I'm going to tell you every day until it sinks in.

I'm not sure if I even know what he was going to say myself.

More godamn cliff hangers. Damn you, Keighley. But I can't hate you; you're too valuable to me. You make me feel like I'm worth the air I breathe. Thank you.

Anyway, I really want to know what Pete was going to say. Grah.

Power. Power. Poweeeer. I finally have power again after a huge ice storm. Thank god.

This actually made my insides flip upside down. I wonder what's going to happen.

Takingbackromance:

Cheeky romance.

I'm sure I don't have to say anything because you already know I love it.

And I guess I've got nothing to reply with because you know I love you too.

Cheeky romance.

I'm sure I don't have to say anything because you already know I love it.

Takingbackromance:

Damn, you're always so sweet to me.

You make me smile.

You deserve it.

Damn, you're always so sweet to me.

You make me smile.

Takingbackromance:

Ah, I've been waiting for this chapter.

I'm hooked; I'll be reading until it's done.

Thank you so much. I wish I could put dedications in still. I just wanted you to know that this, and the next, chapter are for you.

Ah, I've been waiting for this chapter.

I'm hooked; I'll be reading until it's done.

I'm sorry I didn't reply to this sooner. I've just been thinking a lot lately.

I would love for you to do that - you don't have to try, I would just enjoy that you were even there, beside me.

I've got so many memories locked inside that one side of my brain that it makes me not even be able to think straight sometimes. They like to linger and make peoples' lives miserable.

Pess ess: Have fun at the concert tomorrow. :] Getting me an autograph isn't supposed to be a weight on your shoulders; just thought I'd ask since you were going. Although I would probably pee myself if you got me one. <3

I wish there was some way that I could be shipped over to you for maybe just one night so you wouldn't have to be lonely anymore. I can't guarantee that I'll be good company, but I'll try my hardest.

It's the curse of memories, I guess. They're too poignant to shake.

(:

Let's just say that my coat didn't hold very many happy memories. It pained me to put it back on, lying to everyone and making them think everything's fine.

I spend my nights thinking. Sitting out on the deck, drinking more coffee. I WANT to sleep, but my mind dosen't shut off. There are one too many bags under my eyes and it's making people wonder.

I guess you could count them and it'll tell you how lonely I get.

Wow. Thank you.

I have a love/hate relationship with those kind of things. I love the fact that simple things like clothes can keep the memories inside the fabric - unless they're painful ones. Then they just dig into you as soon as you lift up the clothes. And I hate the fact that you never grow out of them; the memories as well as the clothes.

Restless nights? Everything ok?

You don't give yourself enough credit. The things you type are amazing, I just don't think you realize that.

It's like when I put on my winter coat for the first time again last year, and was instantly reminded of everything that had happened the past winter. I put my coat in the basement to keep the memories trapped down there, hoping that by next year I'd have to get another one. (Which I did.) But the damn thing still fit, so I was stuck with that one for awhile.

Stupid thing.

There's no need to apologise, your responses are always perfect to me. They keep me thinking.

I'm pretty tired myself.

Too many restless nights.

Wow. What a beautiful response. I don't know how I'm ever gonna get to replying. Nothing I'm gonna write is gonna be half as good as that. Considering all the "gonna"s I've already typed.

You know, that whole snowflake thing is exactly how my relationship went. You just have this naive hope that the snowflake will hold out, that somehow it will fight against the summer so that all your memories of winter will stretch out that little bit longer.

I apologise if this isn't as in depth as my head wanted it to be, or not as long as I hoped it would, it's just I'm so tired right now I hardly know what I'm typing.

I'll make up for it in the next one.

Until then, into white space I go...

Pee ess: Your secret's safe with me.

It's good to talk to someone besides some of the people in my school who don't understand anything I'm talking about.

People are kind of like snowflakes. They're always falling and, soon, disappearing. You're always trying to catch one, but they dissolve before you're able to smile.
I tried catching one when I was younger, with a jar, hoping that I could look at it at night when I wasn't able to sleep, that little snowflake to remind of the winter nights.

But it melted.

I was heartbroken.

I've always been curious about the concept of love. I never really was the person who wrote their names on the back of notebooks. Though I did get the chills when they looked over. Haha.
It's always a cheap grope on the dancefloor, throw in a little midnight romp and you've got yourself a regular heart break.

I love the fact that I can actually have an intelligent conversation with you. It just makes things so much easier. Seriously.

The only thing I hate about having someone to love is the missing them afterwards. It takes so much time to get over them. Like, when the snow is falling, and you just want to phone them and let them know. But you can't. It's just awful.

You know, as much as I love the whole concept of...well, love, I find myself missing the whole hormone-ridden days. I miss talking about a guy I liked in hushed tones to my friends, the whole blushing every time he looked over, writing his name on the back of my notebooks and hoping no one notices. I miss that. All it seems to be now is a cheap grope on a dancefloor and no promise of a phone call afterwards. Like you said, the guy gets his kicks, the girl gets kicked.

And don't worry about being a cheesy romantic. Underneath all this cynicism, I am too. Just don't tell anyone.