I'm sure right now you're thinking that this is the part where I confess all of the terrible things I've done and kept secret from you, but it's not. This is the part where I tell you that I stay awake, because either I've convinced myself that I cannot sleep, or I've given up on trying to convince myself I can do it without you. I play music to distract myself from you and I smoke because it helps me breathe again. Meanwhile I paint you for my ears every time I write, and I smoke because I hope it makes you mad, and I want you mad because I'd do anything to feel something from you again. I want to take all of the blame, because I always said that it didn't matter what you did, I will never leave you. I don't care if it's a mistake, it can't be, but even if it was, I wouldn't care. I make a million mistakes everyday and I'd be okay with waking up to you being my first. It doesn't matter to me how terrible we say we are together, because it'd be terrible with anyone else, and at least I'd get to be in love with you. And maybe I was angry, maybe I am angry, but ****** you're beautiful, and I'd blister and burn if it meant holding you. Partially because we both know how stubborn we are, and mostly because  we both know how bad we want the same things. I want you to know that I look like hell right now. I haven't been upset, but I haven't cared about the way I've been seen lately. So, I just continue to look like hell, and this is the kind of hell you always said was beautiful. I've stood in the cold for you before. The wind stung my ears, but It felt good because I could still hear your voice.