Perhaps it's this idea
This notion
Of a completely unrealistic love story
Which draws me to books so much.
No I'm not gonna meet a boy in a gang,
or fall in love with my stepbrother,
Nor will he have some sort of disorder
Which weirdly makes him more vulnerable and attractive.
This stuff just won't happen,
And maybe that is what makes it so addictive.
Constantly chasing after this big fantasy
Of one day
Acquiring a love so epic
That it transcends time and space
Just to suit you.
That's something worth wasting my afternoons for.

Don't you just love late night drives?
There's such a beauty about it
It's so much different than day time
It's when I can't remember my problems
Or anxiety
Or stress
Because instead of drowning in them
Like I usually do
I drown them out
With music.
And the carelessness
And freedom
Which only comes
With the night.
And the city lights
They bring me solace
Small tiny specks of brightness,
Of hope
That everything will be alright.

There will be a point
In my life
In ours lives
Where we go on road trips
And sing at the top of our lungs
to our favourite songs.
Where we take midnight swims and have 3.AM conversations.
Where we will have cool cameras and record cool things
Where we camp out on the beach and watch the stars until it fades into a sunrise
There will be the time
Where we travel the world,
And visit abandoned places.
Where we stay in cheap motels,
even though we'll be rich.
We'll get to go to see our
favorite bands live in concert
And maybe even meet them too.
We will live out off our suitcases
And run in to some complicated situations
We will be spontaneous
We'll write a book
Start a YouTube channel
And make new cool friends along the way
There will be a time
Where we use instagram not to brag
But purely to spread the beauty
Of the moments we capture.
And hopefully inspire people ,
But mostly kids
To do what they love,
Always.
But till then
I'll just sit here
On my bed
And write notes and poems,
Take pictures with my phone camera
And dream way too big
Because this is where it all starts
It all starts
With a few kids
With beautiful minds
And big dream.

We've all been asked this question
And we all had an idea when we were young.
Doctors, Lawyers, Astronauts.
It was a beautiful dream.
But when we realised
That reality isn't as beautiful
We were all at a loss for words
We all were lost.
We thought we had to choose something
Stable.
Boring.
We thought we had
To narrow our thinking
To society's standards
Until one day
We stopped.
We stopped thinking wisely
And using that logical part of our brain
Telling us to be smarter
Instead we decided
To go in the direction
Of something
That gave us hope.
Something that
Made us feel alive.
And from that day onwards
We're in this dream
Living in the state of wonder and beauty.
Constantly
Living.
And after all this time
We finally realised
That if people had to ask us the question
"What do you want to become?"
We'd still be clueless
Because we never want to stop dreaming.
Because the reality we created
Is enough for us.

If I had to describe
Love as a season
I would like to think
For myself that is
That it would be represented
By winter.
Now I'm not just saying it
For the sake of it
I actually have given this
Much, much thought.
Ok so winters opposite
Would be summer
Alot of people would think
That love is summer
And maybe it is.
Hot nights, midnight adventures
Damp hair and Sandy clothes
Summer bodies and bikini's
And every other summer cliché
You could possibly
Think of.
I just sort of identify summer
As one night stands
Or new
Fresh relationships.
Because it's just a time
When you're absolutely
Carefree.
Or atleast I think it is.
Whereas winter
Is weirdly
More personal.
It's when you're wearing alot of layers
And your hair is always a mess.
Pink tinted cheeks
And hot drinks.
I feel like this is a time
Of the year
When I'm more vulnerable.
For some very odd reason.
It's a time when
You really know
Who the important people are.
It's when you know you'll jump in puddles with them
And freeze your *** of to keep them warm
Or when you have conversations
About stuff that really means something.
It's rain.
And the scent straight after it
Petrichor.
I either feel cozy and warm
Or drenched and miserable
But wanting to be with someone
No matter which way you're feeling
I think that's love.

Some people deserve
To have poems written about them
Songs composed
Sketches drawn
Novels made
All about them
All that type of stuff
Should come into existence
All
Because
Of
Them.
Also I've realised
Most things
Labelled "You"
Just happen to be masterpieces.
Because "You", whoever you are
Are the reason
For people to create
Something absolutely
Utterly
Irrevocably
Beautiful.
That's kind of a wonderful way
To think about it
Isn't it?

We are the kids
Who want to feel alive
We want to feel liberated and beautiful and young.
We are the sad youth.
Of cutting
And anti-depressants
Praying for some one to save us
From ourselves,
When our minds are dark
And we are alone.
We are the wild youth.
Of late nights
And city lights
With our lungs filled with smoke
And adrenaline pumping through our veins.
We are the lonely youth.
Where no one knows our thoughts
And no one understands
But God, how we wish they would.
We are the hipster indie youth.
We don't do it for the aesthetic
Because this is who we are
We live our lives in black white
And sometimes, someone beautiful
Adds in the most vibrant color.
We are the wandering youth.
Searching, exploring, running, grasping
At whatever we can
That make us see
There is hope
And wonder
And brilliance in the world.
We are the youth of today
We are different
But we are human.
We are the youth.
And even if our youth is fading,
The memories we made aren't.