I hope your mornings are filled with kindness That you rise with the sun instead of the snooze May your coffee be warm and runneth over And that you take the time to walk among the lilacs
I hope your afternoons are fast and productive That your lunch is always your favorite That you have enough mayo to mix with your ketchup And that your fries are always crinkled but never cold
I hope that you ditch work for Wednesday night trivia Your evening away from the relentless overtime That you indulge in cheap food and light conversation And that you never think twice about putting yourself first
I hope that you crawl into bed before midnight That you are greeted by a soft pillow and warm blankets May your eyes grow heavy and the lights go dim And that you always remember that you are loved
And when I looked around the room, the room that was holding only my best pals I drowned out every uproar, every babel and every whisper. My vision went into slow motion as if I was part of a cliche romantic comedy. That's when it hit me. This idea of "love" everyone talks about isn't real. Love isn't crazy, it's not a movie scene, it's not selfish, and it's not complicated. Love isn't violently crying at 4 am over a boy thinking "he's my whole world" and "I can't live without him." Love is hanging out anywhere with your best friends, the friends that genuinely care for your well being. Love is laughing with them until your stomach hurts, laughing until it's almost morning and not giving a single **** that you didn't get any sleep. At the end of the day, that's the love I live for.