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131 plays Little Bit (feat. Lykke Li) Drake So Far Gone

Little Bit - Drake feat. Lykke Li

Three Days On. One Day Off. Three Days On. One Day off. Push. Pull. Legs. Rest.

That’s my routine. Every single week. I get up. I walk half a mile down 35th and a left onto 27th to Lexington’s open gym. My daily hajj, if you will. With just the clothes on my back and a bright neon sack, I make the journey to the temple. Some may call it a gym. But I call it a temple. I give myself up for 1 and a half hour and sacrifice my body onto that rubber floor. My sweat. My effort. My mind. My body. Constantly breaking down and tearing down each muscle. Fiber by fiber. Just trying to be a little better than yesterday. Moving heavy loads from point A to point B. You see those weights and it lays no judgement on you. They don’t care if you’re big, small, fat, or skinny. How ever much effort you put in will yield back the results. When my work output radiates those four walls with my body heat, I become breathless. My heart beats harder by the second. My lungs gasp every inch of oxygen around me. And I rest. I walk around the pool deck to absorb the cooler air and regain mental strength.

Once I feel satisfied with that session, I push myself to the second half of my workout. I walk another half a mile to the Polo’s gym. From 27th onto 38th to 40th. And I give myself up again. Isolating the muscles with the machines and free weights. Listening to my inner Pastor to keep pushing it. All I hear is iron banging and weights dropping. The weights preach. “Squat 5:34 - Keep On Going.” An hour goes by and I finish the day off with pain, satisfaction, and growth. Once I catch my breath, I make another half a mile trip up on 23rd through the park lots of the Polos, jump a six-foot fence, and land onto my apartment division. In a sense, I make a circular journey around the block from my apartment and back to my apartment. That’s what I do. I make no excuses. Even if I’m not in the mood, I try as best as I can to follow it. Only two hours of my day. Rinse and repeat. 

Let’s Skip Ahead To The Good Parts

Sometimes I want to skip to the part where we’ve been together a really long time. I don’t need the passion of the beginning — the urgency, the unfamiliarity, the shaky ground. I am stressed out and I am on edge. I want to be where we’ve been mentally, during this quick courtship and how fast we both fell, I want to be in a place where that kind of emotion and attachment seems appropriate. I want us to be comfortable and I want us to be cozy. I want us to be a seamless unit. Partners.

My ex always said this to me and I never understood it. He liked to start relationships about seven years in, emotionally. He didn’t hesitate to know your family, to start tracking your menstrual cycle so he could buy you Snickers bars day of, to sleep over every night. I thought it was flattering, that probably he just really liked me a lot. But it wasn’t that. It had nothing to do with me. He just liked being in a super serious, committed relationship regardless of whether we actually, you know, were. But I’m starting to think he wasn’t wrong to want that. There’s no real “good” part but I find myself fantasizing about our future.

You, you like to earn things. You keep track of exactly how long we’ve been together so we’re not moving too fast or too slow. But sometimes when I am with you, I want to skip ahead to the “good” part. I want to get to the place where we move as a pair. Where you know to put my glasses on the nightstand and I know you’ll want a Cherry Coke when you get home from work. Where we finish each other’s sentences or better still, convey everything at parties across the room with one tilt of the eyebrow. Where we always know we will sleep beside each other and whose house we’re spending the holidays at. Where we’re talked about like one person, rather than like two. (Even though I know this can be annoying and you’ll certainly maintain your interests, as I hope to mine.)

I want to curl into your back and fit between your hips where I always do. I want to watch you take your medications in the morning and you watch me wash my make up off at night. I make you dinners I know you like, you DVR all my favorite shows so we can watch them together. When I am sick, you spend hours by my bedside feeding me soup and rubbing my temples. When you are sad, you bury your face in my neck and I let you cry as long as you need to. I want to know the tempo of your breathing and I want to feel like I will never lose you.

Don’t you want that? Warm under the covers. No worries. No pain. No anxiety. No urgency. Just our arms around each other and the quiet of the house. Our eyes closed in certainty.

- Gaby Dunn, Thought Catalog

The Different Types Of Love There Are

There are certain aspects of relationships which are never a question of blame, but always a question of hurt. When we love someone who doesn’t show their love in the same way — who can’t quite understand the things we need from them — it will always feel like a terrible defeat, even if it is no one’s fault. We have all had friends who aren’t as touchy-feely as us, or who don’t recognize certain things that may hurt our feelings, or aren’t good about getting back by phone. We’ve had the lover who just didn’t enjoy spooning, with whom it always felt like something of a personal insult when you were relegated to separate sides of the bed. We have had the family member whom we often saw through a wall of our own inability to comprehend one another, with whom communication was always occurring on two very disparate wavelengths that the other couldn’t tune into. It’s a fact of life, but that doesn’t make it any less sad when it happens.

I can remember feeling deeply wounded by a friend once because I felt that, whenever I tried to express my genuine affection, she became uncomfortable or distant. She didn’t seem to know how to reciprocate it, or even make sense of it. When things were light and we were laughing, there was no one else we’d rather be with — but when it came time for a deeper moment of confession or gratitude, I seemed to be speaking a language that she had only learned basic conversational phrases in. When I would talk to her about things I had felt slighted by, or ways in which she would communicate more articulately, she seemed to feel attacked and to want to retreat into herself. She would apologize, but it was clear that she wasn’t fully sure what she was apologizing for.

And it wasn’t until I began looking for reasons why this might be that I realized all of the myriad ways in which she was demonstrating her love for me every day, ways which I didn’t automatically perceive because I would not have done the same thing. But I only needed to look through our email exchanges for example, seeing how nearly every day she had sent me something she thought I would find funny, or tell me something that had happened in her life and ask my advice on it, to see that she was saying how much she cared. When she would write messages to check up when I was hurt about something unrelated, even if the wording was rather sparse, it was clear that she was concerned about me and wanted to make sure that I was okay. It was clear that, while my love was expressed in broad conversations and declarations, hers was expressed in humor. It was in little moments of attentiveness, of remembering me, of asking questions to which she genuinely wanted the answer. Her love for me was clear, but expressed in a very different way.

These differences are based as much in who we are as people as the kind of relationships we are looking for in life. Some of us love touch, some of us love deep conversations, some of us love humor. We are allowed to love all three — and a million more things — all in as many variations as we want. My friend is naturally a more reserved person emotionally, and I tend to be more expressive, but this doesn’t mean that either of us love the other one less. And if another friend gives me an overlong hug and I tense up (true life: hugs tend to make me uncomfortable, I don’t know why, deal with it) it doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see them. I just don’t demonstrate my affection in that way. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

There are people who show their care by making people feel like welcome, tended to guests. They love having people over and making things perfect for them, reminding them that anything they want is no problem. There are people who use humor to bridge the gaps that we can’t always reach in literal terms — they make people laugh when they need it most, and connect with them over things they both enjoy. There are people whose love pours out in complicated, profound words. They could fill books on the way their partner looks when they just wake up, or how much they love spending time with their best friend. People love to cook for the ones they love, or do favors, or pamper them, or compliment them, or just hold their hand in silence. And none of these demonstrations of emotion are wrong, or bad. None are not worthy of being acknowledged and appreciated.

The truth is that there will be a million people in your life who actually don’t love you, whose dismissal of your feelings or tendency to ignore what you want are rooted in genuine apathy. They are everywhere, and make navigating our emotional lives even more complicated. But there are also many people who do love us, and who want to show us, but just may not be able to do it in the way we most want to hear. And it’s important to distinguish between the two, to look at the things people are actively doing for us and take account of the things we’re lucky to have in them. Because we are lucky to have love — in any of its forms — and no way of saying “I love you” should be forgotten about.

- Chelsea FaganThought Catalog

March Madness

Not a single night goes by that I don’t think…Whether it’s healthy or unhealthy thoughts. I need to know what I’m up against and find ways to save myself with considerations to others. And I’m scared to be in too deep when there’s uncertainty. Especially, when you speak to me with words, and I look at you with feelings.

I even warned myself, but you can’t choose who you fall for. But that’s what risk is all about, right? I guess there are certain precautions and checkpoints to minimize the risk and know when it’s safe to proceed.

I can’t control what happens in life. School. Jobs. Random events. What if you’re doing your daily routine and you randomly meet someone. Slow talks here and there about life stories. Then it grows into something more. Someone is going to be standing on the wrong side of the fence. While someone is going to be loving the best side. Someone is going to lose. And someone is going to win. A clear winner and loser emerge with time. It takes two to tango. And the hope that two people wants to truly be together to get through life’s obstacles thrown at you.

But how long they choose to love you will never be your decision. Because people change, feelings change. It doesn’t mean that the love one shared wasn’t true and real. It simply just means that sometimes when people grow, they grow apart.” We all have to realize you are put into people’s lives for a reason. A reason that’s all part of the bigger picture and a reason that’s bigger than just you. We may have selfish feelings at first, but you have to see it in the other shoe’s perspective and accept it. 

When I choose to love, I love hard. Maybe the risk is on my part. I don’t throw the word, love, around casually. I take it very serious. My idea of love is the committal type of love that I will love a person as constantly as I can even way past expiration or onto infinity. I know that when you choose to love, I will try as damn hard as I can to put the continual effort on the small things even if I don’t feel like doing it or I’m not in the mood or I’m busy. Because if you really care for someone, no matter how busy you are, you’ll make time for them and hope they do the same.

Sure, romantic stories inspire me. But at the same time, you witness reality and think about what you can do differently. You can’t be growing old with a fading love. Yes, it happens a lot. Even if I’m 25 or 75, I will buy flowers or get coffee or run my fingers through your body or massage every square inch even if my fingers cripple with arthritis and my legs break in half. I will try my damn hardest to wheel my young heart and dilapidated body from a wheelchair. Yes, I guess my love is scary right now but it won’t be when I’m with my future wife.

500 Days of Summer

I love the film but at the same time I fucking hate it. I hate how the directors show us the harsh realities. And then, I love it because I know I have to protect myself, the heart. I can’t be putting my heart on the line even 50% of the time when there’s a chance it can’t take care of. Even if it kills me a little inside to not open my heart fully when I want to so bad. When two people want two different things or one’s mind moves too quickly than other, things can get messy. I guess I need to close my heart up a little bit more and just have fun. “We’re young… Might as well have fun now and save the serious stuff for later.” One day all this will mean something. Learning how to love. Learning what’s there and not there. Learning to enjoy the brief moments that life gave us. Only time will tell and things happen for a reason.If Tom had learned anything, it was that you can’t ascribe great cosmic significance to a simple earthly event. Coincidence, that’s all anything ever is, nothing more than coincidence. Tom had finally learned, there are no miracles. There’s no such thing as fate, nothing is. 

So I came to conclude through all this introspection, contradictions, and conflictions that I’m just going to enjoy the time we have left on Earth. If you have to something to give, give it now because you might make a difference in someone’s life no matter how little or big it will be. Learn from the past. Love the present. Look forward to the future.

119 plays My Baby Auburn

Auburn - My Baby

TGT (Tyrese, Ginuwine, Tank) | Sex Ain’t Never Felt Better

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(Source: trustitude)