Hey you.

Yes you. Fourteen year old blonde girl with her eyes on the floor and the world in her hand.

Why are you looking around an empty room waiting for something beautiful to happen?

Don’t you know how brilliant you are?

You don’t have the perspective to know that one day you will rule the world.

You will fall in love again, and he still won’t love you back. Not the way you wanted him to.

You will glue yourself back together so many times that you’ll forget what it feels like to not have cracks in you.

You’ll be lonely more often than you’ll be in good company.

Music will begin to feel like oxygen instead of a vapid hobby.

Thicken your skin kiddo, but never be afraid to sob when Fields of Gold plays on the radio.

Look around the room every chance you get and listen to the sound a family makes.

Don’t let him take away the one thing you’ve ever been good at.

Go ahead. Curl up into your little corner of the world and cry for a bit. Nobody said it would be easy.

But stop for a second.

Stop running around like the world is ending.

Look in the mirror.

Really look.

Memorize the mascara tracks down your cheeks and the look in your eyes that says “There must be something better than this.”

Keep it in your back pocket when you’re out ruling the world.

So that one day, when a fourteen year old blonde girl with the world in the palm of her hand comes to you with tears in her big eyes.

You can say,

“Baby, don’t you know how brilliant you are?

Take a look around the room, and make something beautiful happen.”

You don't know fear until
The one place that always makes you happy
Is 4,425 miles away and
You wait as each passing day
Gets you closer to never seeing it again

You don't know fear until
The one person that always makes you happy
Won't even recognize you in 4 years and
You just look at them hoping
That will never come true

But it might.
And that's fear.

Whatever happened to chasing after your dreams?
All we are now are the butterflies, released
Because "if you love them, let them go"
Well, ***** ancient proverbs
I don't expect anything to come back
If it's been abandoned, you see

Looks like its going downhill from here
Yet I still gaze up to the heavens
Instead of the hell before me
I guess that's the torture of
Not knowing where you're going
When you're an optimist like me

cold feet
selling cars
plates of food I'll never eat

I wish we were friends
I wish we were friends
I wish we were friends

wake up wake up
you don't know me
I try and grow up
but I often dream you know my name

I wish we were friends
we could drive out to the city
you could feed me all the things you love
I could wait for you in the mornings and night

I'm trying to grow up
I'm trying not to hurt myself
but I will if I have to

I know I'm being lied to
I don't want to fight it
but I have to

I wish we were friends
I wish we were friends
I wish we were friends

waking up
another day
you don't know of my existence

Whenever I steal a glance at you
No matter how fleeting the image is in my memory
The photographer in me comes to life, trying
Trying to note the focal point of your body
The light source
Shadows, colors, position
blink
The artist in me turns on, and
I secretly trace the outline of your shoulders
I recreate every single strand of your hair
On invisible paper
blink
The poet in me struggles to the surface, attempting
Attempting to describe the texture of the skin
I never touched, the lips I haven't kissed
Wanting to put into words feelings I can't even fathom
blink
All the while, the student in me desperately tries
Not to let the inevitable sigh escape from my lips
In the middle of class
Whenever I steal a glance at you