When it's midnight I find myself struggling to grasp the idea of change
You know, we throw that word around
as if it's a privilege to and now I'm becoming too scared to say something like you've changed or they've changed because I don't think I know what it means
And it's a debate because when I say it what do I really mean
What does anyone mean?

Change

Who's doing the changing? Have they changed since the wintertime when you were all they thought about, did you change since crying in their car, have the circumstances changed since people have moved on from each other faster than teams are getting kicked out of the World Cup? Has he changed since the last time he stared at you in his veil of shyness into a void of loud silence, have you changed since breaking down in front of yet another one you said you wouldn't for three hours? Because times are changing and even I can't fight with that.

People are moving and life is dynamic and sometimes I wish things wouldn't become memories but they do anyway and sometimes we realize that maybe things were never really different and maybe nothing has changed but your view of everything

Your misshapen view

I don't think I understand the concept of forevers and goodbyes. I just can't wrap my mind around the idea of lasts.

And as I get ready to leave for a flight far away from here, far away from the faces I know and the notions I've become accustomed to, all I can think about is

I hope when I go I will genuinely smile

because at the end of the day, we all just want to be happy.

There will be boys whose eyes remind you of the clearest blue sky you have seen all summer, boys who make you think that they will be able to save you from whatever hell you've been living in for however long since the last one left you.

There will be love when the boy decides to do something stupid like kiss you or hold your hand, perhaps just laugh at your terrible jokes enough to seem like he cares about making you feel good. He will piece back that shattered heart of yours slowly but surely with glue or tape or whatever else he can find like his smile or his grasp on you.

There will be pain, and it will genuinely hurt you when you notice either how in love with him you are or how in love with you he's not. It will hurt when he looks into your eyes and tells you you are not what he wants. It will hurt like never before, like no pain you have ever felt and your throat will get clogged and your chest will hurt and you will see snot coming out of you like a faucet and you won't want to leave your room.

There will be blame, to yourself and him. Him for breaking down your walls and making you believe he could be different and you for falling for the process all over again even after you told yourself you would not.

There will be acceptance and then the cycle will repeat. You just have to accept the fact at 1am that you no longer look at that boy with love in your eyes anymore but rather just a friendly fondness and you have finally moved on from him, and you come to a resolution with yourself that you cannot avoid the next boy that comes along with that smile and those sparkling eyes that seem like the life jacket you need to wear in the hurricane of your life, because the truth is you're always looking for that boy who will actually throw it. Each time their hands are behind their back and each time you look to see if the jacket is there.

It's comforting staying awake in the dead silence of your house at midnight and it's comforting to look at the moon and realize you are not alone but are made of the galaxy and each of the stars above and the great big world of outer space makes up who you are in a romanticised eye

I like knowing that I may be the only one awake in the neighbourhood sometimes and I like daydreaming in complete darkness sometimes and thinking about my future and how life will spill out of the bag whilst all the marbles of possibilities roll everywhere on the tilting table

I like pretending sometimes when the early hours of the day begin that things are different and so are circumstances and the past never happened and it's only the present because it's comforting

Sometimes all we need is comfort.

I'm not going to write you a sappy poem about how your squeaky shoes make my heart pitter patter like raindrops when you hear them hit the asphalt outside your window pane because they don't anymore, and I think I'm finally okay with that. Meeting you was exhilarating and it reminded me of the feeling I would get before going onto a roller coaster when my stomach would churn and all sorts of butterflies would make their way from the air I breathed and snuggle into my stomach where they would stay for the whole ride. Maybe I should have known that was a sign. I can't forget the moments where you made my heart beat so fast I was convinced it would pound out of my chest because you were different and I knew this would end better, and I can't forget the times that we would joke around to the point where people thought we were dating because those moments are apart of me and I don't think I regret them anymore. My cheeks are permanently burned by the hot tears that streamed down them when we were together and when we were apart and I don't think I've ever known how to truly feel not good enough until I met you and realized that I'm not who you want but you told me I deserve better and I finally realize that I do. Summer is outside of my window now and it may not be as promising as I wanted it to be but I think it's better than the storms that would freeze my window and it's better than the white that would fall with every time I cried and the raindrops that would pour whenever you told me something new about your new love. I don't know what to do anymore and I think we're probably going to become strangers but regardless you've changed me and I don't regret that and sometimes my heart aches whenever I look at old photos or I see old text messages but I remember that you don't keep your promises and you forget half of what you say and I don't feel as bad when I think about your scent because it's just a coincidence that you have good smelling laundry detergent and squeaky shoes and would stay after with me. I was a convenience when no one else was and I don't know how we happened but we did somehow and in that time frame I managed to slip harder than I ever have before but I'm on my hands again and I'm working my way up to just my feet. Maybe you won't be there to walk by my side, and I think I'm finally okay with that. Maybe my heart will roar like thunder when I see your face again in two months but maybe it will roar for someone else in those two months and will forget the melody it used to beat for you. I used to be torn apart by missing a message from you and I thought I would be physically sick and my knees grew weak when I thought I messed up and all I wanted to do was listen to sad music to the point where my bed remembered the shape of my body, but now I'm happy we don't talk nearly as much, because it's helping me realize I don't need you as much as I thought I did.

I think I'm finally okay.

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