So I was the young sort.
The immature but intelligent, lighthearted but controlled sort.
I thought I knew who I was, where I was, what I was doing.
But **** happened.
Smiling got harder and solitude seemed easier.
I'm 20 years older and 100 pounds heavier
though physically I haven't changed.
It's hard to carry on the same sort of conversations;
hard not to answer every statement with
    Haha, you don't know what worry means-
    You don't know what pain feels like-
    You don't know how intense loneliness can really be-
The thoughts weigh me down. All I do is think.
I have nothing left but my mind and my mind, me.
Carefree is a privilege.

The more you yell
             the more I pull away
The more you control
              the more I want out
The more you restrict
               the more desire I have
                                  *to be free

.

I think my favorite smiles
are the rare smiles

the ones you rarely see
or if you do, it's a little smirk,
or forced, fake, and polite.

I think my favorite smiles
are like gold dust

When I see them
in all their cheesy unexplored glory
I wish to smile along

What if you'd never talked to me and I'd never liked you and you'd never asked me out and we'd never sneaked behind my parent's back and we'd never got in a fight and we'd never missed each other and we'd never talked more and we'd never hung out more and we'd never wanted to be together every second and it'd never be the way it is?

I think
that one time
in the headlights of your pickup
when I kissed you first
because you kissed me right before that
was when I realized you were sincere
you meant what you said
you knew what I wanted
and you wanted that too.

It terrifies the crap out of me
But I don't want to stop.