inatoms:

“If I could only touch you and create a ripple in all you know,” said the book.

This particular book has created tidal waves right down to my very core, right down to my atomic level.

It has been a particularly beautiful, sometimes painful, occasionally heartbreaking, and a distinctly life- and attitude-changing read that has made me reassess my past and probe the dusty chambers of my heart. The book has the prime location in my bookcases. I will turn to it again and again in years to come. But for now, the last pages flicker in an autumnal breeze as the final chapter dwindles to its last words.

I … love … you.

(via inatoms-deactivated20121128)

inatoms:

You believe in ghosts.  Of course you do.  The ones whose name is spoken in a chance sentence when you least expect it.  The ones that you hear in the notes of your favourite songs and in the drops that bounce off the windowpane.  You still feel them.  I know you do.  Haunting your chest and casting shadows at the back of your throat when you tell someone that they don’t exist, yet all you can ever really do is habit their pictures often to make sure they’re still there.  

We are all haunted.  

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inatoms:

A billion or so neutrinos from the Sun will pass thru your body by the time you finish reading this sentence. Have you any idea how much of you passes thru me when you say ‘hello?’

(via inatoms-deactivated20121128)

inatoms:

What if I’ve always known?  If at the tender age of 10, I had already felt you in the ebb and flow of the ocean and knew, unequivocally, that I’d love you despite the many suns that would abandon themselves into the ocean with tired hope.  I have always loved you, from afar, from within, from the apogee of all the things I’ve ever wished for.  And so I’ll set afloat this pale confession in hopes that I’ll arrive at your feet, “somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me.”

(via inatoms-deactivated20121128)

inatoms:

What if I’ve always known?  If at the tender age of 10, I had already felt you in the ebb and flow of the ocean and knew, unequivocally, that I’d love you despite the many suns that would abandon themselves into the ocean with tired hope.  I have always loved you, from afar, from within, from the apogee of all the things I’ve ever wished for.  And so I’ll set afloat this pale confession in hopes that I’ll arrive at your feet, “somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me.”

(via inatoms-deactivated20121128)

I spent yesterday riding through the already dusty roads, sunlight dancing in the hedges, Wiltshire’s fluffy grasses moving in the soft warm breezes as though invisible beings were running through them, laughing. Smiles shone everywhere.

Even in all of that beauty, every moment was brushed with thoughts of you, thousands of miles away. And that distance made the sun seem a little less bright for one person. The person riding through the already dusty roads.

I told her in an email, across more than 4000 miles of grey ocean: “I was just washing up and I’d swear to God, if he existed, that you came up behind me and kissed my neck. Fucking goose-pimples everywhere and the hairs on my arms electrocuted.”

She replied: “It was me.”