Maybe the reason I love the sky so much is because it reminds me of your eyes. Beautiful and endless but changing in mere seconds.

Love is not having your life or revolve around someone. Love is the feeling you get talking on the phone with him laughing at one of his incredibly bad jokes. Love is the way he looks at you while you are lying in the grass falling asleep next to him. Love is the way he loves your body and curves and tells you this just so you know that you are beautiful. Love is the way his skin feels against yours knowing that you could take things further but not doing it cause right now feel perfect just the way it is. Love is the way tears come to your eyes while kissing him before he leaves to go to college. Love is not driving fast anymore because he has convinced you that someone loves you and that life is worth living without even saying those words. Love is wanting to be better for him because you know deep down that you do not deserve someone this special and amazing in your life.
He is love, he who knows when to tell you he loves you, he who wipes away your tears telling you it will all be okay and kissing you to make you feel better. He is perfect to you in every way, even the goofy way he eats.
No love is not your  whole life revolving around someone. Love is accepting a person into your life and letting them see you the way you really are. Love is letting someone become your world just so that you can protect them with everything you have and give them everything they could ask for.

In my three years of high school I have encountered several kinds of boys, all of which I have fallen for in some shape or form. And I feel I have them figured out for the most part.
First you have the broken boys who make you feel in touch with your emotions and mind. They make you realize that yes you may be the sunniest person ever but every day comes with night.
Then you have the best friend. He's the one who has been with you through everything. He makes you feel special and happy. But alas when you try to date he treats you like crap cause he knows you will stay.
You have the "misunderstood" popular guy who likes to sneak out of class just so he can steal a kiss from you before you leave. But randomly stops talking to you the minute a more attractive less clumsy and awkward girl comes around.
Then there is the class clown, the nerd, the ****, the cowboy, and all the other basic highschool stereotypes that no one really cares to talk about or even pay attention to so why talk about it right now. We will save them for another time.
Then there is the kind boy who lends you his books. He will always be your crush that you will never have a chance with. He is intelligent and kind and also hilarious but of course he is popular and out of your league. He is the kind of boy who has an answer to every question. He is the kind of person you could talk to about anything, whether it be music or dogs. He is the guy who makes you say dumb things and makes you nervous just thinking about talking to him. He makes you wonder hours after you talk whether or not your face turned completely red when you two were speaking. But of course he is out of your league completely.
Maybe in my final year of high school I will meet a guy who blows this all out of the water. Or maybe the smart boy who sits next to me in English will actually see me. But either way every guy I have and will meet is worth the pain they bring because they leave great lessons and memories.

The smell of cigarettes permanently stains your hair and fingers only masked by the fading scent of some too girly lotion made for girls who spend their time worrying about their looks and what the other *** thinks about them rather than living. The smell of secondhand smoke lingers around like the memory of bad fathers and horrible past lovers. Maybe that's the reason why you smoke. Maybe you are trying to burn away the feelings and love because his feelings went away as quickly as that stick of tobacco on fire does.

Strange how with a little thought and effort,
You can change who you've been
f o r e v e r.

I think I like-like you.
You are always on my mind (I used to make fun of people who said this but god it's true!)
I love how we talk about music and agree on everything (except on rap but I'm opening my mind up to it just for you)
I love how you sing along to songs under your breath and then to me when you notice I'm staring (I always get goosebumps just thinking about us at the concert with your arm around me)

At the same time I'm nervous.
Nervous because as everyone says all good things come to an end.
Nervous because I'm never good enough.
Nervous because as soon as I'm happy something happens and it's all gone in a second.

But for you I would brave my fears and doubts just for the chance to hold you in my arms again and maybe just maybe we will meet at another concert and reconnect like we did so many months ago before.

Do you remember?
Do you remember the hurt little boy crying in the corner over the pieces of his broken heart?
I do.
Do you remember that little boy crying over the loss of his innocence?
I do.
Do you remember that little blue-eyed girl quietly arriving and listening to him cry, trying to comfort him with all of her might?
Of course you don't but you know what?
I do.

Do you remember?
Do you remember how quickly she fell in love with him and his adorable imperfections and obsessions?
I do.
Do you remember how he seemed happy again?
I do.
Do you remember them holding hands for the first time, she made the first move, both of their hands nervous and sweaty?
I do, every little detail.
Do you remember the first hug, the first kiss, the nervousness of meeting the parents, the first date?
Why would you?
But I do.
Every day. every hour, every minute
I remember.

Maybe I like house renovations so much because the thought of someone taking disasters and making them beautiful gives me hope that someday someone will do the same for me.

Here is to the girl** that thinks she is alone.
Who believes every guy is going to leave because her so-called father did when she was young.
Who does not know how much her family and friends love her.

Here is to the girl that does not know how beautiful she is.
Who is beautiful for her thoughts and words that she keeps hidden from the world.
Who lights up the room when she walks in with that smile of hers.

Here is to the girl who does not think she is smart.
Who has to listen to her family belittle and berate her.
Who is actually brilliant enough to believe that there is more to life than school and grades.

Here is to the girl who has become my best friend.
Who accepts who I am, even my flaws.
Who loves and  protects me like I am one of her sisters.

I hope you are happy knowing that while you date her I'm over here trying to piece myself back together.

You seem perfectly capable forgetting all the hearts you have clawed your way into just to tear it to pieces from the inside.

I hope she does the same to you. I hope you fall head over heals in love with her just so she can tear out your heart and cut off your head. I hope you finally feel the pain you have caused on so many others.

I hope you know I am happy imagining you trying to piece yourself back together while she goes on and dates someone new.

Loving him could only be compared to a thunderstorm. It was loud and filled me with fear but **** there was a beauty in it.

You know the old question: if a tree falls and no one is around to hear it, did it make a sound?
Well honey if we are seeing each other and one of your ex girlfriends doesn't try to ruin it, are we actually dating

I have a very big Crush on you
but sAdLy I am only a littlE Bug
and you are a garden

In a society where all adventure has been destroyed,
the only adventure left is to destroy that society

You didn't even realize what had just happened. You were in shock, because this must be some sick joke, he must have (no he did) take one of his silly pranks too far. Then you muster the courage to look in his eyes. This isn't a joke. You wonder what you did wrong, why can't you hold back the dumb tears. You leave before he gets the chance to say those five cliché words: it's not you it's me.