You Can Stop Hurting Me Now, I Swear I'm Already Trying To Fall Out Of Love With You.

You can stop hurting me now, I swear I'm already trying to fall out of love with you.

- To Change a Heartbeat

Superstition

Noun // so͞opərˈstiSH(ə)n// a widely held but unjustified belief in supernatural causation leading to certain consequences of an action or event, or a practice based on such a belief

I carry an odd sense of superstition. That is to say, I do not believe open umbrellas inside or shattered hand mirrors will bring me bad luck. Soulmates and miracles are nothing more to me than fairy tale endings but I do carry an odd sense of superstition. 

That is to say that I believe magic eight balls hold fate’s voice, and that fate is the universe’s cruel sense of humour. My superstition entails wishing on stars and birthday candle flames. Wishing on fallen eyelashes and blowing them into the wind hoping an angel which catch them and hear my prayer.  I carry an odd sense of superstition, which is to say I believe in love and all other impossible things.  

I was born with a songbird in my heart.

When I was a child, my mother told me “Songbirds are meant for duets,” and promised That some day I would meet another heart That sings in perfect harmony with mine.

But I was still young, and everything changed.

“The song in your heart is too good for him,” My mother told me when I was sixteen. She didn’t like the boy I brought home and Disliked the song of his heart even more. She said, “his song is not worthy of yours, And together, you sound like a train wreck.” It would take years for me to realize She didn’t hate his song; she hated how His song changed the melody of my own.

Years later I met the butterfly king; His heart was the loudest I had ever Known. I couldn’t hear my own song over His, and soon I lost myself in the sound. Then one day I awoke to deafening Silence. He’d vanished without a word, and I couldn’t reteach my heart how to sing.

From that point on, my songbird did not sing; It carried a broken tune, humming a Melody too off-beat for anyone To harmonize with. Eventually It grew quiet, resigned to beat alone.

I had just about given up trying To find the song my heart had long since lost When I heard the sweetest sound to ever Grace my presence. Delightfully off-beat, Unlike anything I had ever heard, The song of your heart spoke to mine before The rest of me understood what it meant.

The songbird in my heart fluttered its wings And for the first time in years, sang its song. You looked at me the way one looks at an Eclipse; awestruck and mesmerized, and I Knew you felt it, too. You told me others Have tried to silence your song, but I want To hear you sing; yours is the only song I want to listen to for the rest of My life. I want to wake up to the sound And fall asleep to it every night.

I apologized, “my disappointing Song is nothing compared to the beauty Of yours.” But you smiled at me and rested Your hand over my heart, and placed my hand Over your heart as well. “They beat the same,” You told me as tears began to form in My eyes. “Singing in perfect harmony,” You said, gently brushing away my tears.

When I was a child, my mother told me “songbirds are meant for duets,” and promised That some day I would meet another heart That sings in perfect harmony with mine.

I thought mine was destined to sing alone But then I met you, and everything changed.

- Songbirds, @blephwrites

CAN WE JUST TALK FOR A SECOND ABOUT HOW MALEC IS CLASSY LIKE THIS? BECAUSE CLARY AND JACE GETTING IT ON IN A CAVE IN THE DEMON RELM (the books) IS SO UNCOMFORTABLE BUT MALEC DOING THIS (tv show) AND THE WHOLE “why haven't you called me back” “you stupid shadow hunter” (the books) AS MALEC FIGHTS DEMONS IS CUTE AND HEARTWARMING. BECAUSE. THEY. MAKE. IT. WORK. THEY ARE MATURE AND GENUINE AND BEAUTIFUL. IN THis essay I will

Malec just kissing each other while the world burns behind them because nothing else matters is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen

I often think falling in love is like being stabbed, for more than one reason. See, it is forced upon us without much choice. Plunged into the depths of our soul and we call the pain a blessing because at least something has reached us. Has touched us. At least we feel something. I often think falling in love is like being stabbed, for more than one reason. It is fast and violent, too quick for you to realize what is happening until you stagger back and realize what is really going on. You stare at the hilt jutting out of you, mesmerized, terrified. Because it hurts when it happens, but we are more scared of the pain that will come with the extraction of this thing killing us. We call the removal Heartbreak when really our heart was fractured as soon as we were hit, yet we only start to feel it when the blade that was keeping us together, filling the wound is taken back. And we choose the torture that is love every time Because we know we can either live with this ache or bleed out alone.

The Universe’s Sense of Humor

Aaron Warner:

Me: Excuse me... Mr. Warner...Can you stop existing for a quick second so I can breathe?