But for once,
just once,
I want to be able tell someone
absolutely every crazy thought
that rummages throughout
my absolutely crazy mind      
and I want them to tell me
that maybe I am not insane,
that maybe I am just
different,
and then maybe tell me
that they like
different.

“Goodnight.”
Your voice grew shaky,
as mine grew weak.
“Please, tell me you’re okay.”
I could hear your car keys jingling,
you were on your way here.
I did not want to tell you that
it would definitely be too late
by the time you got here,
I was already dying,
I didn’t need to **** you too.
“Answer me, please.”
Suddenly there was sobbing,
you were growing more hysterical
by the second.
Part of me wanted to apologize,
part of me didn’t.
Because you are crying now,
tears are streaming down your face,
voice concerned.
But you could not care less
that one night at 3:32am.
I tried to tell you,
I am so sorry that you didn’t listen.
I didn’t mean for this to happen,
you should’ve told me sooner.
Don’t say it, not now.
“I’m in love with you,
please answer me.”
No no no no no.
My voice is too weak to apologize,
God, I’m so sorry.
“Goodnight.”

Find the girl who will look at you and see parts of her childhood within you; the parts that bring back her childish tendencies to giggle and dance around a room. The parts that make her feel like she's known you her entire life even in a moment. 
Find the girl who will find you. In every lost thought, in every struggle, she will find you and remind you of what you're after and who you are. 
Find the girl who will kiss you like she's been to the bottom of the ocean, and she knows what it's like to drown, and she doesn't care as long as you're what's taking her breath from her. 

And I don't think I've ever seen something so sad, because you did find her.

And you left her.
You lost her. 

I feel bad for you.

people tell other people that they would go to the ends of this earth to prove how in love they are.
but that proves nothing.
anyone can go around the world, to the "ends" of it.

but the ends of this world, wherever the hell they are, they would not mean a thing to me unless you were there with me.

so to prove to you that i am in love with you,
i will go to the ends of this earth,
but only if you come with me.

i want to get to know you.
i remember thinking that when i first met you.
i wanted to get to know everything about you.

what you look like in the morning, what you look like at night, what your hair is like if you jokingly put it up in a towel, what your family is like, what words you use a lot.
what your favorite scent of febreeze is, what color you describe the sky as, what you think of when you see something beautiful.
what your favorite creamer is to put into your coffee or if you even like coffee, what you look like at 2am when you're feeling alone.
how you speak when you are angry in comparison to when you are sad (so i will never get the two mixed up), what you want as a tattoo, what you believe in.

i wanted to know everything that i could fall in love with.
and i learned that there is no one else i would rather know, than you.
because absolutely everything about you is intriguing, from what you look like in the morning to what you dare to believe in.

Let’s pretend that we have to re-fall-in-love.
Let’s pretend that to get to know each other, we have to explore the world together and everything fun in it.
Let’s get to know each other by hiking to the top of a mountain and eating lunch while we gaze at the breathtaking view.
Let’s get to know each other by riding bikes in the middle of the day all the way into the dead of the night.
Let’s get to know each other by walking the beach and being mesmerized by the way the waves hit the shore.
Let’s get to know each other by riding around with music blasting and the windows rolled down.
Let’s fall in love with each other again by being in love with how our life is with each other.
Let’s fall in love at the top of the mountain, in the middle of the street when it’s pitch dark, on the beach watching the waves, on the highway; let’s fall in love with who we are with because they make where we are at what we love.

the early hours of the morning, when light has yet to show itself, and the streets are quiet.

2am is not for the happy people.

it is not for the lovers.

it is for the shadows that finally feel accepted.

it is for the poets, who are still up because their mind is filled with an unimaginable amount of words about someone they love.

it is for the broken-hearted who have been crying since 9pm.

it is for the people who love but are not loved.

it is for the one who finally feel like they can be whomever they want to be (or need to be) at 2am. and only 2am.

find a girl that makes you question the existence of the "grey area" and that makes it hard for you to listen to any song without thinking of her;
find a girl that makes you question whether summer ever ended at all,
find one that makes you want to explore nature and learn about the ocean just so you can compare her to something almost as beautiful as her.
find a girl who turns giving up into giving you everything,
a girl that makes you imagine the very day you met her over and over again.
find a girl that will make you think twice about what you say, but won't ever chastise you for it.
just find her.
find her and swear to me you will never let her go because everyone else is looking for her too.

the blinking becomes harder
19:25
breathing does too
19:26
everything becomes a mess
19:27
as my mind thinks of you
19:28
goodbye

You're asleep right next to me.
Your gentle breathing makes the most comforting sound I have ever heard.
The almost silent thump in your chest reminds me of my reason to love and live.
The way your lips are slightly parted and the way your hand is ruffled in the sheets and the way your hair is tousled within your other hand and the way you are finally,
you are finally at peace with yourself and the world.
In this very moment, where the world isn't real for you,
As I look at you,
The world just isn't real to me either.

He lavished you in compliments and told you that your eyes reminded him of the only home he's ever known. He made sure you believed him when he told you he wanted you. His arms when they wrapped around you, they really felt like they would never unclasp, that his intertwined fingers would never unzip. But they did, they stopped tangling up in you and they ripped apart, taking shards of you with them. His scent only lingered when you didn't want it to afterwards.
But the drive home changed all of that when he told you he wanted to see you again. You thought there was no way he had actually ripped the very protection you had from guys like him. But he had, and subconsciously, you knew he had. You didn't care.
It's okay, I think every girl denies it. But just know that whomever the boy was who claimed to love you when all he ever touched was your skin, he won't ever know what it was like to touch your mind or heart. And he can make you feel worthless but honestly, looking at you, we know he left the only thing that might've made him have notable worth. He used you.
So please, don't believe that he, someone who thinks it is okay to use people, can determine your worth. Because he's just trying to determine his own.

The alarm clock rang obnoxiously loud, for she was already wide awake, had been for the past twenty-six hours. It had been one hell of a whirlwind; the emotions she felt now were unique and she could never name them, only describe them. "Empty, numb." She would etch down into her notebook. "What rhymes with numb?" She tried to be so poetic, sometimes to the point where it drove her mad. "I feel like I've downed a bottle of ***." She tried rhyming it. Most of the time, the pages she had etched into would be thrown out or put into envelopes that were never meant to be mailed. Her life consisted of the unknown and the known together, which if you don't know, is horrific. "What if, what if." She'd write.
"What if he misses me too?"

And when I'm twenty-two
and I'm sitting on a balcony
with a cigarette in one hand
and a bottle in the other
and I have no extra hands
to get a grasp on my life,
maybe then you'll realize
what I meant when I told you
that people like me
weren't meant for people like you.

I can promise you that people will not praise you for talking about how easy it is for you to out stretch your hand into someone's chest and rip out their heart. No one will come to your rescue when your heart has been stolen and you sit with an excess amount of others' hearts surrounding you. Your tongue will not help when you shove it down another girl's throat. I promise you the windows will still continue to fog when you're showering and you'll continue to write her name in the condensation. It all fades though, right. Your life has come to a complete halt and the radio won't stop screaming at you through the lyrics it plays. You've lost her, stop denying that you're wrong. You know good and well that she loved you more than she loved herself and you took advantage of that. No one will come to your rescue as you sit and bask in the cold hearts around you as your heart is with her. No one, *not even her.

The cracks in the sidewalk haunt me and I wonder if the glass on your window is steamed by the breath of you waiting for her to show up.
I can't show anyone the breath that escapes my mouth because I am terrified it calls of your name.
My eyes roam into the deepest depths of the largest shadows because I fear that you will creep up on me at anytime with the sound of someone's name that reminds me of yours or the way a person says a certain word.
I've been driving for five hours and my ears just popped and you'd think I would be able to hear more clearly but still, all I hear is your name.

I understand that hearts are not meant to stay whole for your entire life. The concept of you live and you lose has never been a foreign one to me. I know that sometimes life isn't fair and that you might have to watch a loved one die or the person you're irrevocably in love with walk away. When I was younger, my mother used to speak to me in such an innocent and pure tone, as if everything inside of her was not killing her. She used to tell me that life was hard and that it was not a place for the ones who fall hopelessly in love with people. It was not a place for the people who would let someone walk all over them. But rather, a place for the ones without a heart (or to at least portray yourself so) and for the ones who could cut people off in the split of a second. But I grew up differently, and with my age, came my inevitable downfall and fatal flaw. I was everything my mother had told me would not survive out in the world, the real world that is. High school came and went - sometimes the girls there were a tad bit too overwhelming and I will admit to thinking my mother was right a lot of those years, that life wasn't meant for "softies" or generosity to strangers. But it passed. I learned that as I looked down to my child and I kept my voice pure and innocent, while everything inside of me may or may not had been killing me, I told her that the world would thrive off of the kindness of her forgiving heart and that her eyes would turn dull for periods of time just to come back even more lively. I learned that sometimes the most cold-hearted thing you could ever do to the world is keep your innocence.