If someone told me that I could go back in time
And fix all of the mistakes I made, what would I change about us?
Would I go back to the moment you confessed you liked me? - Would I say it back?
Would I go back to when you asked me to be your girlfriend? - Would I say yes?
Would I go back to when you first kissed me? - Would I pull away?
Would I go back to when you said those three words? - Would I repeat them back?
Would I go back to our first fight? - Would I have ended it then?
Would I go back to the big breakup? - Would I have fought for you?

When we incorporate beauty and aesthetics into a photo, it tells a story. Art is a manmade way to tell a story. Painting, photography, writing, dance, sculpturing. It’s all art that gives a story, whether it’s heart-warming or heart wrenching. I don’t think there is another way to fully satisfy our emotions. There’s always something that draws you in and makes you say, “That’s it! That’s what I’ve been feeling! Now I understand!” Beauty in art is something that links cultures. Art and beauty are languages in their own way. I think this is because everyone has emotions and everyone feels. This is why we’re so biased on our own photos. We want everything we create to be beautiful, without flaws. When others point out our flaws on our works, we become harder on ourselves to meet society’s standards. Having flaws is inevitable but I think we forget that.

As the night passes, I watch the colors of the sky turn darker and darker until it becomes light again. It’s been about a year and a half since my light escaped from the place of my heart, which has been darkened by your mistakes. Ever since I was a little kid, I’d always be awake past my bed time because I felt more at peace. And I guess maybe that’s why I loved you. Because you were already covered in a dark shade. I was fascinated. I stayed up. My parents always told me not to stay up too late because I would be drained the next day. I never listened. So I stayed in your arms a little longer. But I should have listened because I’m now black like the night and forever tired from my broken heart.

I looked upon the town I live
But I saw much more than that.
I saw stories and songs.
I did not see houses, I saw the outline of a book.
You might say I was in the biggest library.
Though I will not get to read every word etched onto their skin,
I am glad I have read the ones I have.

For a moment I forgot that you weren’t mine
I became overly excited about seeing you again. 
I was hoping it was going to be like before. 
When you would hug me and you scent would stain my clothes
And my chin would be buried deep into your neck, breathing the words,
“I love you.”
But instead 
All I got was a simple hello
And another wave goodbye.

12 months ago, the truth came out and my heart fell into pieces.
11 months ago, you went to be with her. 
10 months ago, you told me you still loved me and we were together again.
9 months ago, we were not together anymore and I had to tell the police what I knew.
8 months ago, I miss you.
7 months ago, I miss you.
6 months ago, I still love you.
5 months ago, I miss you.
4 months ago, come back.
3 months ago, you came back.
2 months ago, you found someone again.
Today, I still love you, I wish that someone was me, but for now, I must let it be.

This time last year it was you and I.
This time last year you still loved me.
But seasons change and times moves forward.
When did you become a season and a time?