faunivory

I hope the flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.

faunivory

Sometimes I sit and think about the emotions I felt while reading the books written by @lucrvlron. Every single one leaves me feeling different, as if it awakens a part of me I never knew existed—or one that had been buried somewhere deep inside.
          
          When I read I Know You, one line stayed with me. It was something like, "Home is not something you build with wood. Sometimes, it's a person." The wording is probably different, but the meaning never left me. I still remember sitting in the lab, turning those words over and over in my head.
          
          Because for me, sometimes my house never truly felt like home. It had everything it was supposed to have, soft corners, warmth, dim lights, people laughing quietly around me. Yet whenever I was with a certain person, everything else faded into the background, and I realized that maybe home had never been a place. Maybe it had always been a person.
          
          Perhaps that's why I could never forget that line.
          
          It happens every time I read his books. I may forget the smaller details, but the feelings remain. Certain sentences stay with me for months. Whenever life feels unbearably heavy, I find myself repeating them in my head, and somehow, I feel seen. As though someone managed to write parts of me without ever knowing me, without ever intending to. That realization always hits me harder than I expect.
          
          That's what his stories do to me. They make me feel startlingly alive. Sometimes they excite me so much that I forget to keep every thought to myself before leaving a comment. If it ever came across the wrong way, I regret it deeply. I never meant anything beyond genuine admiration, and I'm truly sorry for that.
          
          His books are incredibly dear to me, more than I can properly explain. Whenever I read them, I catch glimpses of him inside his characters, as though he quietly stitched pieces of himself into each of them. He's someone who writes fragments of his soul, and I'm simply someone grateful enough to be able to read them.

faunivory

@faunivory I know I'll never truly understand him. Maybe that's by choice. Maybe some parts of him are meant to remain his alone, untouched by anyone else's understanding. I genuinely admire that.
            
            Sometimes all I want to ask him is how he makes everything seem so... light. As though life is this endless road, and he's simply sitting by the window, watching it pass without letting it consume him. I want to know how he does that.
            
            If I weren't so afraid of speaking to him, I would've told him about every single time his books kept me from drowning in whatever life was throwing at me. I would've told him how grateful I am that he exists. That whenever I read his little niches and quiet observations, I feel like I'm looking at someone who feels everything so deeply, yet chooses to carry most of it in silence.
            
            Thank you for existing, Seb.
• Reply

faunivory

          I saw a speck of golden light, and I adored it. But when I tried to close my hand around it, I couldn’t touch it, couldn’t feel it.
          
          Because for me, it was only meant to be adored, to light up my space. Never to be claimed. The light always belonged to the object it came from, in the end. Never to me.

faunivory

I want to kiss you on the mouth. Take my tongue and lead it southbound. Baby put some faith in me. Put your waist in my face. Come on, violate me. I want you to violate me. Bite my lip, I'm fallin' for you. If you ask, I'm crawlin' on my knees, watch your feet. I can help you fight with your demons. 
          
          Southbound - Artemas. 
          
          How Heeseung be feeling in " House ".
          The song reminded me of him.

faunivory

@faunivory Agreeing with you.
• Reply

znlvrn

@faunivory I really missed that story
• Reply