One evening, you are going to wake up in a cold sweat of memory, and you are going to have no other choice but to bleed. You are going to have no other choice but to pick up the pen.
When I first met you, I never thought that we were going to end up here — with so many memories, with so many inside jokes and stolen moments.
It took us years to understand that love was not meant to justify hurt; that love alone was never meant to be used as a means of vindicating the problems we didn’t fight to change.
At the end of the day, change is something you should never be ashamed of. You don’t owe anyone an apology for changing. You don’t owe anyone an apology for being different than you were a year ago, for wanting new things.
If you were in a room with all of the people you once loved, and you were told to choose, whose arms would you end up in?
It’s time to take your love back from those who hurt you; from those who never understood how to protect someone who cared as deeply as you did. It’s time to take those pieces, the shards of heart and hope, from the hands of those who do not deserve to hold them any longer.
It’s not that introverts don’t want to fall in love; it’s not that introverts don’t want to spend time in the company of someone we admire. It’s just that we enjoy the company of the world more. Our solitude is stunning.
I know that it will seem like they have changed, like they have laid to rest everything your heart opposed. After all, they were your best friend. They loved life into you, art into you. They knotted memories to your collarbones, kissed light into your sadness. They were everything to you. They were your future, your safety.
Make him laugh, it is the most beautiful sight. Grab his hands in the street and dance with him. Make him breakfast in bed. Kiss him in front of all of your friends. Wear your love happily, let it shine through your eyes, let everyone know that he is one who enlivened you. Be proud of him, be thankful for what he inspired within you.
I want our love to respect us, to respect the beauty of what we create together. And though I want our love to be a fighter, the kind that pushes and battles and draws every weapon it has just to stay in the war against goodbyes, I want our love to know when to walk away. When to lay down its arms. When to let go.