Maybe I don’t stay up till 6 am with those people, talking about our lives and wondering who we’re going to be. Maybe I don’t call them all crying when something’s going wrong. Maybe I don’t get to see them as much as I’d like.
I know how hard I battle daily to continue with a routine that just feels so lacklustre without you. One that has taken me years to work on. One that has just made me run away time and time again to feel a version of alive.
Really it’s because I am a coward. I’m too much of a coward to tell someone I love them. I’m too much of a coward leave a situation I hate. I’m too much of a coward to start over one more time.
Why is it that people being happy and who they are makes us look at them like they’re the insane ones? Why is it the people who love themselves, truly love themselves, conceited and vain?
We can turn the world off for a minute and feel each other. Feel the rhythm that pulses between us.
Whether it was nothing but friendship or something more. You were always going to be a big deal. And you haven’t disappointed.
I’m going to love everything about you that she made you feel like was unlovable.
I know someone who loves you, really loves you.
It was her life and she was done with feeling like she wasn’t living it her way.
Love. That’s what this is. It’s love.