He wore glasses,
and had brown eyes.
His smile was silly,
and his laugh was awkward.
He'd never had a girlfriend.
I'd never had a boyfriend.
He'd never kissed anyone.
Neither had I.
We'd never been in love before.
Slowly, his brown eyes,  so simple, became beautiful and precious to me.
His silly little smile made my heart feel so fuzzy, like it was pumping fluff through my veins.
His awkward laugh put a smile across my face, that was never seen by anyone else.
He made me laugh my awkward laugh.
He told me he loved me.
I realized I loved him too.
I was in love, but so unsure what it meant, what love was.
But now I knew.
Love is when you call me a night, telling me how much you love me.
Love is when we used to be best friends, and then suddenly, I looked at you, and everything changed.
Love is when I'm with you, and we're alone in a giant crowd.
Love is when just thinking about you gives me that smile.
Love is everything we are and everything we will be.
Love is being so young, but feeling such feeling you've never felt.
Love is when you first held my hand, and I blushed, is this how this works?
Love is a nervous and awkward first, second, third quick kiss, we can save everything else for marriage.
Love is a beautiful thing.
Love is you and me, and a starry night.

Spiraling
Sinking
It seems all I do is fall
The ground is so shaky
Can't keep my balance
Pulling apart my heart
It's split in two ways
Walk away from the pain
Thinking that would keep me sane
But it just gets deeper
Spreading like infection
Doing everything that I can do
To stop from feeling
Yeah I'm falling a little harder than before
I can only break so many times
Before I'm unfixable
There's a split in the road
Don't know which way to go
So I've been sitting here drawing straws
But each straw is the same

So stick up ivy and the bays,
And then restore the heathen ways.
Green will remind you of the spring,
Though this great day denies the thing.
And mortifies the earth and all
But your wild revels, and loose hall.
Could you wear flowers, and roses strow
Blushing upon your *******’ warm snow,
That very dress your lightness will
Rebuke, and wither at the ill.
The brightness of this day we owe
Not unto music, masque, nor show:
Nor gallant furniture, nor plate;
But to the manger’s mean estate.
His life while here, as well as birth,
Was but a check to pomp and mirth;
And all man’s greatness you may see
Condemned by His humility.

Then leave your open house and noise,
To welcome Him with holy joys,
And the poor shepherd’s watchfulness:
Whom light and hymns from heaven did bless.
What you abound with, cast abroad
To those that want, and ease your load.
Who empties thus, will bring more in;
But riot is both loss and sin.
Dress finely what comes not in sight,
And then you keep your Christmas right.

But I’ll always live in your shadow…

so long as there’s a moon,
so long as there’s self-pity
and dark thoughts in your head,
so long as I live here in this house,
in this room,
in this bed.

I wasn't always so easily discouraged.
I used to bristle with enthusiasm.
I glowed with it.
It didn't matter if the task was simple, or tedious, or daunting, or boring.
As though on rails, I slammed into each and every task with terrific force.

But I got older.
Things that used to come easily grew slippery.
What I used to do without thinking twice, I found myself over-thinking.
I threw the brake. I ground to a halt.
Finally, I became idle. A left-over husk of a kernel that's already been popped.
I drowned myself with doubts. Hypothetical situations that might never happen.
I lived in fear of what might go wrong.

So I began to watch everything go wrong, as though I was helpless.
I was no less able. I was no less compassionate.
But I had grown wary. Of what?
What was it that, out of nowhere, caused me to slow down?

I guess I looked down and realized that if I fell, I would not be getting back up.

When you're young, you have no worries, because nothing is relying on your success.
So you mess up a math problem. You'll get it eventually.
So you botch things with that cute girl who sits across from you. You're young, you'll get it.
Re-assurance, faithfully, unwaveringly. A safety line should I fall.
But I never really fell, did I? So why am I laying down like I have?

Get up.

Get up.

I worry about everything. I worry that I will fail.

I dread what comes, what I can't avoid. But time, and time, again, it comes, and I miraculously don't die when it hits, because I've been bracing for a train-wreck impact, a force that will really, truly, finally, definitely lay me flat for good.

I close my eyes, and brace. But the crash never comes. The silence that was continued to be.

I turn behind me, but there's no train there.

I'm starting to realize, with relief, (with horror), that maybe all I needed to do was step off the track.

I look down, and realize, with a first-creeping then-howling laughter that I was never on the track to begin with.

I look off where the track is. There's no train there, either. Maybe there never was.

Maybe there never will be.