my friend who snorts cocaine won’t eat cookie dough because it’s bad for you
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I still love the people Iβve loved, even if I cross the street to avoid them.
Uma Thurman (via atmosthetic)
As I flew in to this city I had never been to, and looked upon this ocean I had never seen, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. A memory from over a year and a half ago resurfaced: you and I in my bedroom, sitting on the floor, my large world map lying between us. Our hands held pins, which we were sticking into cities and places we wanted to go one day- together.
We picked out the bigger cities first, London and Paris and New York and the like, and then you put a green pin into Seattle, Washington.
“Seattle?” I had said. It hadn’t really ever stuck out to me.
You’d nodded. “Yeah. There’s these mountains there, and the port, with ships coming in and out, and- well, I’ve never been, but- it’s a cool city, little coffee shops and stuff…”
“So we’ll go there one day. Just like we’ll go to all of these places.” That was me.
“Yeah. Together.” You said it like a promise. A lot of things you said carried the security and hopefulness of a promise.
So we agreed to save our money into my mom’s old mason jars, and use it to go around the world one day- together.
And now I’m here and I’m looking at the mountains you told me about, looking at the port with ships coming in and out without you; I can’t look over at you and see your eyes light up the way they always did when you saw far-away places, even in photos. I won’t sit in a small, quaint coffee shop with you. I miss this trip that never even happened. I wish you were here, but that isn’t new, and neither is this nostalgia that creeps up on me whenever something reminds me of you. To be fair, a lot of things remind me of you.
You were right. The mountains are beautiful.
nostalgia for a future that never came to pass. {I wish you were here. -a.g.} (via pressurizes)