Time flies.
Before you know it,
you're not six,
but sixteen
and you can't even remember
what you were feeling
when you rode a bike for the first time.
You can't remember what you felt
when you first accomplished something–something big.
You can't wrap your mind around the fact that you're two years away from
being considered an adult
because you sure don't feel like one.
In fact,
you find it amusing
because you're not even responsible
enough to know what to wear in the mornings.
It's crazy to think that we are just kids
who swear we know the future.
We think our words will take us halfway around the world
but most of us won't even leave this town
and that girl who dreams of the city
will never see New York.
When we were younger,
we thought being teenagers
would be heaven.
We dreamt of makeup
and parties
and sneaking out to kiss the cute boy
across the street
but nobody ever bothered to tell us that
there would be days when we no longer want to live or, rather, days where we
feel so numb we'll do anything to feel something because truth is,
we feel kind of dead inside
and all we want is to feel alive.
and so we swallow pills
and we cut open our skin
in hopes of getting rid of the monsters
inside our heads that follow us every day,
even though everyone told us
they'd be stuck under our beds.
it seems like just yesterday
you were playing with dolls
and now you're writing poems about a boy who won't ever see you
the way you see him.
It's hard for any of us to realize that
in a year we won't remember
this very moment
and you won't remember how fast
your heart beat when he held your hand
for the first time
because in reality,
feelings don't last forever.
Nothing lasts forever.

I never thought I could fall in love with somebody
the way I have with her.
I thought I knew what love was, but I never really did.
If you would have asked me what I thought love was three months ago, I would have said that it was hurting all the time.
That it was something that you burned up in-
Something that you find in the romance of hazy coffee houses and broken cigarettes.
Something that was unobtainable.
Now, she's made me realize, love is acceptance.
Love is making somebody love who they are.
Love is staying up until 5 o' clock in the morning just to talk.
Love is waiting.
Love is awkward.
Love is worrying about somebody, even when you know they'll be alright.
Love is a shared song that you both can cry to.
Love is a comfortable silence.
Love is wanting to be everything for somebody.
Love is a kiss that can't be felt.
Love is shirts on the floor and butterflies in our stomachs.
Love is her.