fashion, literature, music, john mayer, taylor swift, starbucks and 80s movies are basically my life.
You can call me kaydee.
new york is my future home. music is my absolute passion; it's what keeps me going through anything. i'm an extremely strong minded and strongly opinionated person. i sing, play guitar and write songs. i speak my mind whenever i feel like it, and generally sware too much. i won't apologize from who i am, and i don't need anyone's descretion. i have an unhealthy obsession with john mayer and serial killers. i live on iced coffee. sunshine makes me unbelievably happy. i aspire to be a musician or writer. i want to see sunrises in Rome, Paris and Venice. i should have been born in the 70s. this blog is basically just a culmination of everything i love and a testament to who i am.
Just keeping this here for a second
I want to call you, just to hear your voice. To hear the silence in between your words, to detect the sincerity. I want to be able to tell if you miss me. Undoubtedly, I couldn’t camouflage the aching for you in my voice, and I want to be able to tell if I can hear it in yours.
We’re so different. We’re so not right for each other. This is so wrong, and it’s to right at the same time. It’s this paralleled feeling of wrong and right that creates the most passionate and unbreakable feeling.
The sun was setting across the expanse of sea, and the waves rolled in and out accordingly, kissing the shore. Your eyes glazed across me in the temporary visibility of the smoke, with what, I don’t know. Maybe an inkling of lust, or interest, but there was something there. It was a spark, and you had caught it in your eyes, and every time our vision touched, I could feel it, burning brighter and gaining momentum with each expanse of moments between us.
You pressed that cigarette to your lips. The smoke blazed in the sky and travelled through the bittersweet summer night air. I clutched my blanket closer to me, I could feel my heart racing beneath my skin and it was scary. It was on the edge of danger, and the cusp of risk. It was the allure of the unknown that kept me coming back to this place, which instinctually, I knew, wasn’t right.
But as your skin danced across mine, and your eyes trailed slowly across my body, it felt so undeniably euphoric. There was no place I’d rather be. Perhaps I wasn’t even in a place, more like a parallel universe, existing somewhere between reality and heaven.
That was the first night I met you. The first night you had touched me, you evoked some kind of rebellion and some kind of feeling inside of me I had never felt before. You had breathed life in to me. The days suddenly seemed to be filled with hope, and with wonder, and with a melancholy sense of change. You had changed me forever more, and in that moment it was a dangerous feeling.
Should I call you?
It’s been a couple of days since we said goodbye. It’s been a couple of days since I’ve heard your voice. Ive died a thousand times. And I wonder what you feel. If your sitting here, rotting with the same annoying feeling of loosing your everything, or f youre just fine.
