Because nothing really matters if the trees are still green, or if the sky is the most vibrant shade of blue, because we are not the kind of species to bleed out cries of "please-
bring some type of change!"

But I am not the typical human, I need change like I need the rain for life to bloom. I need change like I need you- the careful grasp on the wrist, guiding me like the watchful mother I will always love.

But I do not see things in the way that others breathe. I do not think purely for me. I desire another's happiness- to see the joy spread across that face like they're children who perceive the world like a giant candy store through huge lenses.

What does that mean? Perceiving oneself to be different. Am I truly unique like a rare gem in a desolate cave, or rather, does that make me a humanistic vessel wandering around in this huge world?

So, I don’t remember the last time I did something extravagant and cheesy for you. I just kinda want to do something nice, that will let you know how much I care about you. So uhm, bring on the sappy romance?

"There must be something in the way you look at me- some days I feel like our eyes collide like a billon galaxies- there is so much going on, but I don’t ever want to look away.
Each glance is always mesmerizing, like the type of glimpse between two awkward summer lovers on the steepest of braes.

When I look into those eyes, do you know what I see? I see a second chance at life- a life that would be anything but mediocre, something that is meant to be cherished, to be shared.

(As cheesy as this sounds) I want nothing more than the share the love that I have for you, with the entire world. If I could scream it to the heavens, I would, but I’ll just whisper it in your ear, because my heaven is planted on this earth, two feet in front of me within arm’s reach.

Somedays I wonder if you know how much you truly mean to me. Because I am happy. Happiness tends to be lies shrouded in bitter smiles, but with you it’s this tangible thing. A thing with wings that could make even the darkest of souls sing.

I know it’s stupid. I know it’s stupid to get so attached to someone, especially to someone who could walk away within a matter of moments. Anyone can. I could blink, and you could be gone. So I’ll tape my eyes open and try not to sleep, because what if you’re not there next to me?

So here’s a few words from you to me- endless thoughts like a vivid dream- everything that I see. Everything I would like us to.

A reality.

I have jumbled up and troubled thoughts that could pierce an ocean. 
Thoughts that swirl inside my cortex like a raging whirlpool, thoughts I cannot escape. 

And the anxiety will bury me, bury me further inside than my vessel ever will. 
So much, in fact, that I can feel my soul attempting to escape from this body... This... Meat sack that never was or ever will become "me."

So tonight, I will hide. I will hide my mind in the sky- full of all the stars and galaxies and will fill my head with thoughts of shinning stars, and things that'll allow me to break free. 

Because you see-

*I just need a little space to breathe.

What is between your thighs? Empty stares hidden behind masks of confused faces, those who are brave enough to speak out.

Wavering hesitation in the questioning of names, locations, attractional appeal.

Do I even seem real?

Does my body "pass" the notion binaries with lingering questions of male? Female?

Of course, but who am I to decide the way I should live my life, or how I've "become" when I've shedded the skin of someone I once was.

I am nothing, if not a charade.

You could call me a poet, yet interpret it as someone who sways with the wind.
You could call me a musician, and say I will "not amount to much in life."
You could call me an artist, and take your words and twist them into some lifeless art, and shove them into a splattered canvas.

I am not my occupation.
I am not a name.

I am a roaring fire of determination, a surging wind in a desert storm.
I am will power, from the strongest of humans, manifested into one single human being.

I will not be defined by minuscule things built by anguish and concern.
I will not be tormented by sleepless nights and pity.
I will not break, nor will I crumble from the pressure of a thousand rocks slipping from under me.

I will fight for the words I write and the souls I attempt to heal, because god knows, writing and healing are the only things I've ever been good at.

So here I am, patiently. Escaping in the mulitude of thoughts you brought upon me.
I must thank you- you're making all the difference.

Cross the line into my heart, and mark it with an X.
For I am yours, and nothing in this world can make me believe in anything less.
Less than perfection, less than the air I breathe, and the words I speak.
I am totaled in this underlying affliction, between pain and glory, surrounded in little words that no one seems to speak.
So here I am, and there you stand.
Standing in the rain that douses you like falling pins and needles, I see you, and you see me.

For that, I am sorry.

Because I am the X that holds you together, the glue that fashions paper bones and weathered hearts. I breathe, and you breathe.

You see, you and I are rattled together in an endless cycle.
A singularity, if you will.
And as dangerous as things may seem, or may come to be...
I wouldn't have it any other way.

Because you are the X that stole my heart.

If you were to ask me what my name is, I would hesitate.
I would hesitate for I know not how to respond.
My name is not of my own, but a faded thing, like a memory or a dream.
A memory of who I used to be, or rather, who I never was, who everyone else dreamed me to be.
I am not my name.
I am not something to rely on when things go wrong.
I am not the things forced within a heart.
I am not the thing that keeps most breathing.
I am not Hope.