writing isn't easy when
the only language i speak
is that of her laugh

>> i don’t have a best friend but if i did i think it would be you. every time our eyes meet from across the room and you smile i remember how i learned that life is beautiful, not in events, but in people. you’re one of my favorite ppl, i love you i love you i love you
>>>>> do you ever wonder if we think of each other the same way? that YA novel that i read reminded me not only of the false positive, seeing something that isn’t there, but also of the false negative, thinking there’s nothing there when it is. maybe you’re my false negative?
>> i think your smile is so beautiful and your laugh is the cutest. when you stop and stand still because you’re laughing so hard and when you laugh so hard you bury your head in your hands. you’ve made me laugh, we’ve made each other cry, but after all of that the only thing i’m sure of is i love you. the universe couldn’t have made me a better friend. the weird thing is, out of all my friends you’re the one i’m most okay with going away from, because i know you’ll be there when i get back
>> you make me feel okay about being sensitive because you always know what i need. no matter how hard it is for you, you will always put me first and support me in everything i want to do even (and especially) when i'm too scared. i love you and i will never leave you !

> if the world was ending of course I’d tell you I loved you, I loved you with all of my heart, so much that I couldn’t bear to tell you because even if you loved me a little (i know you do but do you?) I would’ve run into your arms, I’d be happy for a thousand lives over, of course
> and maybe I would tell you that I was never able to think about the love I had for you in the present tense, I loved you and I will love you but I do not love you, if it’s in the past or in the future it’s less of a part of me and that is okay
> if the world was ending maybe I’d tell you that I could never decipher whether the love I had for you was platonic or romantic or something in between and that sometimes I wondered if I only held onto the feelings so I could write more poetry
> maybe I’d admit that I wrote the most beautiful words for you, that sometimes even my own words evoked tears in the corners of my eyes because such a crude emotion was poured into that writing
> maybe I would tell you that recently i wasn’t able to think of you apart from love
> and maybe I would tell you that apart from staying awake at night and seeing you in my dreams I wouldn’t admit that you lived in my heart
> maybe i would tell you that i couldn't look at your face for too long because what if i ended up staring at you and (worse) what if i ended up gazing at you, that would not be good
> if the world was ending i'd reveal that the only way i kept a lid on my feelings was limiting how i felt to 'maybes' and 'what ifs', anything more was embarrassing
> maybe i'd tell you that you're my soulmate and i've never met anyone more alike to me who could at the same time be so different
> and so i'd probably admit i think i love you in a friend way but i've never had a friend that i couldn't bear to let go as much as you
i would tell you that you're my person, and i wouldn't care if i was yours
     > (though right now i really hope i am, probably because the world is not ending; everything changes when there will be no tomorrow, everything changes when all we have is the past)
> i would tell you that i've rarely experienced such an intense emotion, much less for a friend, i would tell you that there's something different about you (is there something different about me?) that makes me dread the day that we part
     > i would tell you how much i feared that we would drift apart, if i could i would hold your hand and never let go (would you let me or would you pull away?)

after years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor i think i finally understand why the face staring back at me in the mirror is so unfamiliar

i am not my dark eyes, i am not my crooked nose, i am not my thin lips, i am not my rosy cheeks

no, i am the hairstyle that my mother taught me how to do before middle school started so that i could take care of myself
i am the love poems that run through my head all day because language is so wonderful and you are so wonderful and sometimes i can't help but experience certain compositions as many times as possible
i am the friendship bracelet that i wear on my wrist that matches with my best friend who would never wear a bracelet in a million years but did it for me
i am the whirlpool of love that exists behind my eyes that shy glances and awkward eye contact put there

i see myself in my fingers mindlessly tapping out rhythms from my favorite songs, not in my tears, but
i see myself in everything i mourn for

i see myself in the money i saved from my grandmother's funeral three years ago because i am too attached to part from it, not in my smile, but
i see myself in my inability to keep a straight face when someone laughs at my jokes

the years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor was worth it because i see myself in those too, more doodles in the margins of the storybook of my life

in the end, i became who i am because of you

our pupils widen to let in more light so that we can see something better, but
when we see people we love, our pupils widen to take more of them in,
to drink as much of their image into our eyes as possible

my eyes change to see more of you

i'm sure everyone has loved a song that they've heard somewhere,
but they don't know the name of it
or how to describe what it sounded like
and so you try to replicate it, but it is not the same
and so you try to listen to other music to forget about it,
but it's so stubborn that you don't notice the new notes.

i knew someone who was like one of those songs
oh that was a beautiful experience, he was beautiful, and his voice was like the song i couldn't get out of my head

i remember his face and his voice and him just enough to recognize him but not enough to find him, and
i know enough about him to know that he exists, but not where he does
the thought of him gives me butterflies and excites me, and i want to find him but i can't, i know some but not enough
and the thought that i have lost him forever destroys me every moment of my life

even though i don't know who you are or where you are or how you are, you are real and the way you made me feel is real and i know that you exist somewhere and someday somehow we will meet and i will bask in knowing that i wasn't wrong about your beauty

now i cover my ears because i know
if i do hear anything else
either i'll be consumed with my want for you
or i'll forget you altogether

isn’t it beautiful that our first reflex when listening to music is to replicate that tune,


with the same throats that are tired of speaking we try to make art