Without Me

Without me

[8:17AM] The hardest thing about watching  him falling was not following him on his way down the building.Thank God someone was holding her against her will,otherwise she would have flown over the edge of the building,just to be with him during the last seconds of his life and die with him,because there was no life for her without him.It would have been a peaceful death.They would have flied together for mere seconds,smiling to each other and then,with a snap of their necks against the pavement they would have been gone.TOGETHER.But all she could hear was sirens echoing beneath her and someone was holding her against his chest whispering “we need you” in her ear but the empty feeling of not lying beside him 200 storages under her feet was taking her under and she couldn’t hear anything anymore.”He needs me more”

Desolation Row - Bob Dylan

They're selling postcards of the hanging They're painting the passports brown The beauty parlor is filled with sailors The circus is in town Here comes the blind commissioner They've got him in a trance One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker The other is in his pants And the riot squad they're restless They need somewhere to go As Lady and I look out tonight From Desolation Row. Cinderella, she seems so easy "It takes one to know one," she smiles And puts her hands in her back pockets Bette Davis style And in comes Romeo, he's moaning, "You belong to Me I Believe." And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend You'd better leave." And the only sound that's left After the ambulances go Is Cinderella sweeping up On Desolation Row. Now the moon is almost hidden The stars are beginning to hide The fortune-telling lady Has even taken all her things inside All except for Cain and Abel And the hunchback of Notre Dame Everybody is making love Or else expecting rain And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing He's getting ready for the show He's going to the carnival tonight On Desolation Row. Ophelia, she's 'neath the window For her I feel so afraid On her twenty-second birthday She already is an old maid To her, death is quite romantic She wears an iron vest Her profession's her religion Her sin is her lifelessness And though her eyes are fixed upon Noah's great rainbow She spends her time peeking Into Desolation Row. Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood With his memories in a trunk Passed this way an hour ago With his friend, a jealous monk NOW, he looked so immaculately frightful As he bummed a cigarette Then he went off sniffing drainpipes And reciting the alphabet You would not think to look at him But he was famous long ago For playing the electric violin On Desolation Row. Dr. Filth, he keeps his world Inside of a leather cup But all his sexless patients They ARE trying to blow it up Now his nurse, some local loser She's in charge of the cyanide hole And she also keeps the cards that read "Have Mercy on His Soul" They all play on the penny whistle You can hear them blow If you lean your head out far enough From Desolation Row. Across the street they've nailed the curtains They're getting ready for the feast The Phantom of the Opera In a perfect image of a priest They are spoon-feeding Casanova To get him to feel more assured Then they'll kill him with self-confidence After poisoning him with words And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls "Get outta here if you don't know" Casanova is just being punished for going To Desolation Row. At midnight all the agents And the superhuman crew Come out and round up everyone That knows more than they do Then they bring them to the factory Where the heart-attack machine Is strapped across their shoulders And then the kerosene Is brought down from the castles By insurance men who go Check to see that nobody is escaping To Desolation Row. Praise be to Nero's Neptune The Titanic sails at dawn Everybody's shouting "Which side are you on?" And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot Fighting in the captain's tower While calypso singers laugh at them And fishermen hold flowers Between the windows of the sea Where lovely mermaids flow And nobody has to think too much About Desolation Row. Yes, I received your letter yesterday About the time the door knob broke When you asked me how I was doing Or was that some kind of joke? All these people that you mention Yes, I know them, they're quite lame I had to rearrange their faces And give them all another name Right now I can't read too good Don't send me no more letters no Not unless you mail them From Desolation Row.

I am still learning how to go back and reread my own chapters without feeling like i want to set all of my pages on fire - E.V.ROGINA

In love with this 👏 great job

Conor Maynard Imagine - Let go.

Raindrops hit the glass of your window with such intensity you thought they were going to break it. Once again you found yourself looking at the bright screen of your phone, alone in the dark, as a sappy rom-com played in the background.

Conor had been acting up recently, and you had no clue why. He seemed sad, lost, the spark on his blue eyes long gone. And it broke your heart, seeing one of your best friends like that, mainly because you could do absolutely nothing about it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to give him your attention. No, it wasn’t that. But Conor was a hard person to read, and even harder to get to open up. He never talked about his feelings, never showed any signs of sadness. You thought it was because he didn’t want to be seen as the weak one. You could relate to him to a certain extent, but you also knew he needed help.

But, how can you fix someone who doesn’t want to be fixed?

As you looked at Conor’s second sad retweet that day, you decided you had had enough. Enough of seeing him drown in his own tears, all because he was scared of being saved. He had saved you, comforted you so many times, you thought it would be just as fair if you were there for him too.

But deep inside, you knew it wasn’t just a matter of returning the favor. 

You didn’t know how it started, or when or why. The only thing you knew for a fact was that somewhere between meeting Conor and that day, you had stumbled with his everything, and you had fallen hard. Rock hard.

It didn’t take you more than a minute to put your shoes on, grab a jacket and the keys, and going out the door. Conor didn’t live too far away from your apartment, so you didn’t even bother in calling an Uber. You knew he was at home, because he had texted you an hour ago saying he would be writing new music all night, or at least trying to. Jack and the rest of the boys were out in Central London, so you knew he shouldn’t have been feeling at his best.

Essentially, it took you less than 15 minutes to get to his apartment block. The doorman knew who you were already, so he opened the door for you right away, guessing that you were going to see Conor. 

You sighed before gently knocking at the door. You didn’t exactly know what you were trying to do, showing at his doorstep at midnight, but you felt it was the right thing to do.

Few moments later, a rather confused Conor opened the door, staring down at you “What are you doing here?” he asked in a low whisper, and you thought his voice sounded weak.

You could tell he had been in bed. He was wearing his stay-at-home clothes, his hair was messy and his eyes screamed to be closed, but for some reason they just couldn’t.

You bit your lip unconciously “I saw your retweet” you said sincerely, although now that you said it outloud, it sounded kind of ridiculous “It’s like the tenth one this week, Con” you said, concerned, your eyes never leaving his.

He gestured for you to come inside, and he gently closed the door behind him “Conor, just tell me what’s wrong” you said, not being able to keep looking at his lost eyes any longer “I’m not going to judge you, or think that you’re weak. Everybody breaks down from time to time, it’s human” you said in the softest voice you could make.

He let out an almost inaudible sigh as he scratched the back of his head “I appreciate you coming to check on me, but I’m fine, really” he said. But he wasn’t even looking at you, and you knew he was lying.

You crossed your arms “You’re not fine, Conor” you stated “Stop pretending you are, there’s no point. You need to get it out of your chest”

He wasn’t still looking at you. You moved closer to him, scared of him rejecting you in any way. The last thing you wanted was to get hurt in an attempt to make him feel better. That would only break you.

When you were barely ten inches away from him, you took his cheek on your hand, caressing it with your thumb. He leaned in your touch, as you brushed the corner of his lips with the tip of your finger “It’s about my music” he finally said, and his voice was so weak you had barely heard him.

“There’s so much pressure on me right now to release a new album, it has practically blocked me” he confessed. Your eyes softened at the sight of him, so vulnerable, so human “I haven’t been able to write a song in weeks, and I feel like I’m letting everyone down”

“Conor” you whispered, imitating his voice “You’re not letting anybody down. It’s okay if you haven’t released an original song in some time, because you cover a song a week, and you share it with your fans. You haven’t abandoned them, they don’t feel that way”

He closed his eyes, and you could almost hear the pain “I know they support me, but sometimes it’s not enough” he said “I need to hear it from myself. I need to be happy with what I’m doing”

Your thumb kept brushing his cheek as your free hand reached for his, intertwining both of your fingers. He then looked at you, and for the first time in a long time, you couldn’t make out what his eyes were saying.

“You’re the hardest-working person I know, Con” you assured him “It’s okay to give yourself a break from time to time”.

He nodded, and you could tell the tension on his body had been released almost completely “Thank you, Y/N” he said, his voice still low, but at least it was back to normal “Thanks for worrying about me so much, even if you don’t need to”

You smiled “Hey, it’s what friends are for” you said, the word friends burning your throat as you said it.

“Right” he said, and he didn’t give you time to think before he pulled you in for a hug “Stay the night?”

You let out a small laugh, happy to see your dorky friend being back to his normal self, at least for the night “Of course” you planted a small kiss on his cheek, releasing yourself from his touch to go to the sofa, your bed for the night.

But Conor stood there, in the dark, watching you as you closed the courtains in the living room. What the hell was wrong with him? Since when had he been so mesmerized by your moves, your touch, by you? He couldn’t count how many times you had stayed at his place, crashing down at the sofa. But for some weird reason, now he couldn’t imagine you sleeping on his apartment, and not having you pressed against his chest all night.

He had been feeling like that for quite the longest time, he wasn’t going to lie. He didn’t know where his feelings came from, but it wasn’t like he cared as long as they could be satisfied. He had been okay with being next to you, hugging you, laughing with you. But now, all those little things were nowhere near enough.

Conor walked towards the sofa, where you were building up a comfortable sleeping spot for the night. He sat down next to you “Can I join you?” he asked, rather shyly. You nodded as your heart exploded inside your chest, almost making you feel nauseous.

He got under the blanket with you, pressing his body against yours so you could both fit in the long-legs section of the sofa. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, as the other one embraced your waist carefully. You hugged his torso as well, and without a word, you placed your head on his chest, listening to his beating heart.

He lifted up your shirt just a little, so he could brush his fingers on your exposed skin. He drew small circles with his fingers, softly, as you felt yourself dozzing off. 

He was sending chills down your spine, and for some weird reason you were cold. You snuggled closer to him, in search of a little warmth. You felt the small pressure of his lips on your forehead instead.

You looked up to meet his eyes, the arm that had been protectively hanging around his waist, now lifting up to his face. The tip of your fingers traced a soft line on his jaw, as his eyes searched for yours. His hand moved upwards on your back, until they met the clasp of your bra. You held your breath for a second before his hand went down again.

You wrapped your fingers around his neck, almost like preventing him to go away. But he didn’t back up. He leaned in slowly, brushing the tip of your noses together as he let out the cutest little laugh you had ever heard. You smiled.

“I’m sorry if this takes you by surprise” he suddenly whispered “But I really need to kiss you right now”

Instead of saying anything, you slowly closed the gap between your expecting mouths, bringing your lips together in an agonizing kiss. Your tongues moved together in perfect sync, as his hand gently roamed your back. It wasn’t until that moment when you realised how bad you had needed him.

When you pulled away for air, neither of you moved away completely. Because now that you had finally known what it felt like, you didn’t want to let go of each other.

Department of foreign languages in Greece offers 3 languages? 4? They ain't enough

i just want to speak every language ever, is that too much to ask