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Abs Sep 2016
my life is a mess but its an ok mess
and what i was a year ago
will not definite me
i'll start writing happier sad songs

i want to get to know myself before i talk to you again
i wanna live like you and your family
and darling don’t wait anymore time for me
i can't live without hearing you breathe
Abs Sep 2016
I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.

Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

I could be walking down the street one day, blasting Rihanna or Fleetwood Mac, jamming so hard that I don’t see the bus coming. I could be walking with a book in my hand, reading until the very end. I could be paying total and complete attention, imagine the impact before it arrives.

And I’d really, really rather not die with some confusing statement I said sitting in the phone or the thoughts or the memory of someone I know, care about, need.

I know how it is—we all want to be mysterious. None of us want to get hurt. None of us want to look desperate. So we wait to respond to texts, phone calls, emails, Facebook messages, Tweets. So we communicate our emotions in how we end our messages (no period this time? Really gonna get them.). So we say vague, half-statements and expect people to read our minds.

But what if we died?

What if the last thing you ever texted that girl was, “I don’t know, whenever,” when she asked when she should come over, even though you really really wanted to see her right now? What if you were head-over-heels in lust with some beautiful human in your Lit. class but you chose to wait 15 seconds before texting them back, only to never get the chance to text them at all?

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the bus is coming.

(So go text them back.)

-Rachel C. Lewis
I love this passage quite a lot. Most people are afraid of the unexpected and the possibility of rejection reoccurring over and over again. I wanted to share this on my account, feeling as if it was worthy of everyone's reading attention. I hope you are able to take away as much as I did the first time, and quite frankly every time I still read this.
Complete credits to Rachel C. Lewis.
Abs Aug 2016
its important to feel
like you belong
in a room
with people you love
Abs Feb 2016
I know if one day I wake up forgetting who I am or who I was supposed to be, I still will remember your name.

I'll remember how secure it sounds leaving my mouth when I'm out of breath, or even when I'm in denial.

I know that if I go to sleep for another 3 years, you might eventually crave my skin for a final touch.

But you'll always wish me a Goodbye.
Abs Aug 2015
i can't wait to wash the blood out of your clothes,
to show you that you're less alone.
and to prove how delicate you are,
close your eyes and get in your car.

the brakes don't exist any more,
just you, the wheel and your grip teaching you to soar.
you know how to live one more time,
without coming home or trying to commit a crime.

and once more you'll find your God,
you'll claim that he's a fraud.
the body of yours will start to go numb,
i'll slowly touch your beating skin, starting with my thumb.

you sleep deeply until it is sunset again,
i'd **** to touch ink from your pen.
drive slower and safer to stay breathing,
and so i can avoid more grieving.
Abs Jul 2015
open as a closed book,
as cold as your eyes,
i fed us, wishing you and i would both choke.

cursed with beauty,
wanted by the devil,
she abused her boundaries.

killed by dignity,
drowned with my iced tea,
i miss the fights we could have.
Abs May 2015
i think back to the times
you got out of your car

i got so jealous of the streetlights
they got to hold you, all of you

i opened my window today
first time in months

your quiet smell still lurks on my walls and
i still need to let go of every part of you

we used to fight about your family
then the day after

we'd **** and
again, fall in love with each other's eyes
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