The Why's:
"Why does it hurt so much?"
"Why do I feel like I'm losing you?"
"Why am I never good enough?"
"Why am I doing this?"
"Why can't you let her go?"
"Why do we keep going in circles?"
"Why do I never follow my gut?"

The What's:
"What do they have that I don't?"
"What's wrong with me?"
"What's wrong with you?"
"What do you want from me?"
"What is the right thing to do?"

The Who's:
"Who is she?"
"Who am I?"
"Who are you?"
"Who do I turn to?"
"Who can I talk to?"
"Who wouldn't hurt me?"
"Who wouldn't judge me?"

The Am I's:
"Am I better off alone?"
"Am I a good person?"
"Am I doing what is right?"
"Am I living the life I should?"
"Am I better not living life at all?"
"Am I kind enough?"
"Am I popular enough?"
"Am I pretty enough?"
"Am I smart enough?"
"Am I funny enough?"
"Am I enough?"

My first love was the moon.

In my darkest hours, he bled through my curtains.
He was quiet, never really having to say anything,
only gently bathing me in his light.

He replaced my tears with stars,
arranging them in constellations that told of our future,
proving to me I'd live long enough to even have a future.

Even when I refused to let him in,
even as I'd shut my windows and bundle under the covers,
I'd peek outside after some time and he'd still be there,
Night after night.
Waiting.
Patient.
Forgiving.
Loving.

Perhaps I had taken my moon for granted.
Perhaps one wasn't designed to wait forever.
Perhaps a moon can only share its light for so long.

Tonight I open my windows,
and for the first time,
the night has never been darker.

Falling in love
Is the process
Of witnessing first-hand
Your own distinct life
Slowly intertwining itself
With another's,

Until one is shared by both.

Once you have fallen, and are falling no more,
There is no yours or mine
Only ours,

And nothing will ever be the same.

Life is comprised of liquid moments.
No matter how hard we try to grasp them,
Or cup them in our hands,
It's never enough.
They will always leak through the cracks
Between our fingers.
And even if we do manage
To keep little drops of time
Wedged in the wrinkles of our palms,
They will evaporate, soon enough.

I get it.
I know you dislike me.
If only we lived in equal repulsion,
We could go on with our lives
Peacefully loathing each other.
But, sadly,

My fondness for you does not quiver in the slightest.

Look at me
Like it means
Something,
Would you?

"What do you fear?"
"Death."
"Death is inevitable."
"That's why it scares me."