I cry for you in my dreams, but in my waking moments when you cross my mind, I remember it’s not real—you are still here.
I wasted all my wishes on you.
I tried to fit myself into the empty spaces between your words.
I don’t know what it was about you
that made me feel alive after being dead inside.
I must be real still, or a ghost, or a fallen angel. You can pick, it changes sometimes daily when I am not properly treated.
We assume that no one is looking for a unique person or relationship. We conform so much that we make ourselves faceless. We have lost the value of conversation– of getting to know someone and let our insecurity keep us quiet and well-behaved.
Maybe we don’t realize that we aren’t ever really alone and we exist in places we can’t see or understand, like other people’s memories or our initials left in a park bench.
Romance isn’t dead but it might be on it’s deathbed.
Everyone should take at least one trip this way, there is no way to truly explain how much traveling (even in small doses) changed me.
Hold your breath for as long as you possibly can, until your chest feels weak and your head feels light.
If you fall in love with me I can’t promise you it will be pretty. I can’t tell you I’ll make you breakfast on lazy Sunday’s. I can’t pretend that I won’t love you too much some days and not be able to even love myself others.