I could get on a plane,
and scale the alps,
or scuba drive across The Great Barrier Reef.

I could push around a gondola,
learn to rope a steer from a cowboy,
or man a tuk tuk.

I could be painted a million different colours in India,
drink my weight in beer in Germany,
or pour out my heart into a notebook under the Eiffle tower.

I could do all of these thing, but my responsibilities would be waiting for me at home.
University, jobs, love, life. It would all be waiting, ready to turn me into an adult

So, let's keep moving , eh?

I met you, and you were beautiful,
and I said nothing.

We spoke for the first time, we found common interests,
and still I said nothing.

We became friends, swapped notes and stories over drinks after class.

It was the perfect time to tell you,
instead I said nothing.

We grew apart, saw less of each other, spoke to different people,
so obviously I couldn't say anything.

You missed class. A lot. People asked where you went,
I didn't know, so said nothing.

You came back with a beard and ******* circles under your eyes, still beautiful,
but I said nothing.

Months later, you started to laugh again, held the hand of a girl as you walked past me, raising your head in acknowledgement.

She held your hand as tightly as you held hers, she said something when I stayed silent.

I saw you were happy again,
so I won't say anything.

Waves pull me down towards the sand,
reclined in my nest of granular gold,
my arms wave up towards the fading light.

It would be so easy to stay down here,
to go limp against the pressure that weighs me down.

But just as my mind chugs ever closer to its internal slumber,
the light breaks through the darkness and glistens, so much like your hair on a sunny day.

That's why my arms stretch,
my hands reach and claw,
my legs beat in time with my rapid heart.

I could be laying peacefully on the ocean floor,
but instead I break the surface.

And it is entirely your fault.

And I will never be more thankful.