I've figured out that there's a lot less to write about when you're happy
Than there is to be said when you're sad.

If you read this know these things:

I'm sitting here eating Life cereal right out of the box and if that doesn't taste like childhood then I'm not sure what does

This cereal isn't giving me what I need: life

It's ******* 1 in the morning and my head hurts like a ***** for some reason I can't explain but it's been hurting ever since you told me goodbye

I put a heated blanket on my bed because this winter seemed a helluva lot colder than last but it could also be because you disappeared at night

Tonight is one of those nights that I can't really breath right, like there's something that pinches my lungs together everytime I inhale

Remember when it rained and we talked about the thunder and I could hear it through the phone. I don't think I'd ever been happier because I knew you were right there on the other side listening to the same things

There was something beautiful about the fact that we couldn't be more than 2 feet away from each other during class time freshman year.

It's dawned on me that we literally spent our whole junior year not saying more than two words to each other.

Remember when we used to be friends and we smiled at each other and we had conversations and we told each other our secrets

Do you ever think about the fact that I still know those secrets

There's something terrifying in knowing you have all of mine too....

I hope you've lost all memory of what I shared with you.

Maybe it will give us a fresh start.

Sometimes the days feel sad and kind of misshapen
Like they are heavier on one side than the other
More time balanced during the morning than the night
And a lot of days when we were friends
It felt like the days were perfectly even
Smoothed out like silk across a wooden table
Like the mornings went at a normal pace because you kept me sane
And the evenings faded into night as our messages got deeper and deeper
Then the nights spread out like canvas and our dreams painted the surface
But now I can't keep up with the evenings
And the mornings don't come to an end

whenever you think about giving up

just think about all of the things there are to do

there are so many more stars to count and beaches to lay on and skies to look at and clouds to make shapes from

there are so many more sunsets to watch and sunrises to sip cocoa to and summer days to swim and winter evenings to read during

maybe the beauty of the world is overwhelming but so are the beautiful people

and those people are the people you love and adore and would love to love

they could be parents and siblings and lost lovers and current partners

but think of this: how would they feel if you were gone?

if they love you as much as i think they do

*they'd die on the inside with you

I can't wait for the summer again when:
I can stand in a big open field and look up at the sky with the sun setting in the West, slipping down the trees and through holes in the horizon until it's bled away into the atmosphere.

*I can't wait for the summer again when:
I can stand on a hill at dusk and breath in the air that smells faintly like brush fire and soft woodsmoke, tinted with the summery tang of ripening fruit; peaches to be exact.

I can't wait for the summer again when:
I can wake up on the early mornings where the fog veils the trees like wispy lace, scented like lavender and rain, mixing the air like watercolours, swirling pinks and blues and purples together to create a pallet.

I can't wait for the summer again when:
I can sit on my front porch and watch the sky explode with lightning during a thunderstorm, illuminating the fronts of houses and my driveway, drenching everything in purple and white light.

I can't wait for the summer again when:
I can be free.

The things I miss most are:

Sitting by the cherry tree with you, branches decadent with petals and blossoms spilling onto the ground

Drawing on the bench way up in my yard and listening to the crickets sing love serenades to partners hidden in the grass

Telling secrets as friends and partners in crime, not as lovers and unstable atoms

Walking the highway running through the mountains in Colorado, sipping Gatorade like fine wine and waving at cars that flew past

Sauntering back to the cabin while everyone yelled our names and searched for our souls on the snowy roads that wound around the bases of mountains

Sitting in the practice rooms and switching saxophones for the day, confusing even each other with who was who, being the same person at heart

Getting on Facebook and scrolling through my friends to find you and message you the days' troubles, talk to you about your
dad and your
mom and your
sister and your
life and the
sunset that dripped off the canvas of the sky that evening


I miss what we had before we were more than friends.