I think the truth is that I never wanted something easy to begin with.

I've always wanted to dance with the devil and squeeze cactuses between my fingers because oh god how beautiful pain makes me feel.
I wanted broken glass beneath my feet and volcanoes erupting in my heart every time your fingers traced my bleeding lips.
If I am being completely honest, I loved watching you walk out the door just so that sparks of adrenaline would eat me alive while I ran after you,
barefoot on the scorching tar because **** -
your love was so worth it.

I am difficult to love - that I know. I am both fire and ice. I am a breathing paradox of everything you want and everything you hate.
I am a tornado of light in an ocean of darkness - together we are ******* invincible.

Anyone who comes after will sink into the ashes I leave behind me wherever I go.
I hope you know that our souls chose each other because everyone else will drown in our depth.
Our love was constructed by the earth even though our love too is a paradox.
Our love is gentle and kind  but at the same time it is vicious and thirsty - always wanting more.
I always want more.

My favourite time to make love to you is late afternoon. Just after the first rain has come and the air is still crisp and each leaf is stained with tear drops.
I love the contrast between the fresh air squeezing itself through every crack in the windows, forcing the hairs on my arm to rise while your warm hand brushes past my goose bumps making sparks of electricity and fire pulse through my veins.
I love feeling your breath and the chilled breeze taking turns to heat up and cool down my naked body.
I love that the sun has not yet set and that time is clearly linear and you are all mine.
You are all mine.

There is this moment in the morning, this short, sweet period of time where you haven’t yet woken up but aren’t really asleep. Where your memories have not come crashing down on you like a thunderstorm yet and you can fool yourself for a few seconds.
It is at this time where I forget that you no longer love me.
It is at this time where my heart feels safe.
It is at this time where in my mind I am still your sky and you are still my stars.
I want to live in that time.
I remember once, before everything got so messed up, I looked into your eyes and thought “****, you have never loved a hurricane before. I am going to break your heart.”
You broke mine.
I overestimated myself and underestimated you.
You are the hurricane, the Milky Way that is scattered across your pale silky skin shines brighter than I ever could.
And although I always refer to myself as fire I have forgotten what it feels like to be burnt to the ground.

I wish you knew how empty I feel in your arms.

I wish you knew that when I whispered the words "I miss you" I meant you.

I wish you knew what it felt like to turn from fire to ash so quickly.

I wish you knew that you did this to me.

And loneliness is felt so deeply when I am lying beside you.

We got high in your dark room,
It was lit up by candles that illuminated the shadows flickering off your skin like fallen leaves.
Here in the dark you looked like a volcano. So powerful.
Why are you afraid?
Shadows flickered down your walls like the petals that lay in my hair. The weeds of my past fill my veins like ivy, strangling me with every breath.
Breathe.

This is for the people who are alone in a room full of people. For the misfits and socially awkward chipmunks. For the ones who feel empty. This is for you because it gets better. One day you will find your people. Chin up little flower.

2. This is for the girls with curly hair. This is for those of you who are too tiny to reach the top shelf or are too tall to blend in. For the gangly arms, the bruised knees. For freckled faces and crooked teeth. For the girls who hate their body. For the girls who love their body. This is for those of you who society states are not beautiful because you are not the norm. This is for the wallflowers.            

3. This is for the 3 AM romantics. For the alcoholics and the poets. For the ones who cry alone. For the people who have passion burning their soul but were not born with the ability to express it.  This is for the actors and   dancers. For the people who have music between their rib cage.          
  
4. This is for those of you who drink black coffee even though you don't like the taste. This is for red lipstick. This is for your out dated cell phone, and your NASA computer. This is for your crocs. This is for the mimers, the clowns, the people who are too scared to love themselves. Your chameleon soul is inspiring.            

5. This is for you, the reader. This is to tell you that you are not alone.