September 11, 2010

• one.
  I hate that moment when you remember something sweet the last guy said to you, or something he randomly did that made you fall in love. Because then all your head allows you to do is compare that with the new guy. Then what if he doesn’t measure up? What the hell are you supposed to do if the guy before him still has sections of your heart?

  two.
  I am scared of anyone finding out how lonely I am, I have shut everyone out completely.

  three.
  I want a person who comes into my life by accident, and stays on purpose.

  four.
  Look at you, you’re so young and you’re so scared. Why are you so scared? Stop being paralyzed. Stop swallowing your words. Stop caring what other people think. Wear what you want. Say what you want. Listen to the music you want to listen to. Play it loud as fuck and dance to it. Go out for a drive at midnight and forget you have school the next day. When are you going to realized that you can do whatever you want?

  five.
  You have given and taken a lot from me. You gave me a reason to smile, but you took away my ability to love anybody else.

  six.
  I’m a girl. I have feelings. I overreact. I underestimate. I overestimate. I over think everything. I look to deep into everythings meaning. I dream big. My expectations are high. I can tell when I’m being lied but sometimes I wish I didn’t. Yes I get jealous, and I’m always scared I’ll lose you. Thats why when I ask you how you are I really mean it. When I ask you how you’re day was, I genuinely want to know. And when I say I love you, I’m not lying.

  seven.
  No one is afraid of heights, they are afraid of the fall. No one is afraid to play, they are afraid to lose. No one is afraid of the dark, they are afraid of what’s in it. No one is afraid of “i love you”, they are afraid of the response.

  eight.
  If you are going to fall in love with me, it’s only fair that you know what you are falling in love with. You are falling in love with my insecurities, and my obsession with trying to figure out what everyone thinks of me. You are falling in love with my immaturity, my constant need to feel loved and appreciated, my overactive tear ducts, my internet obsession, my tendency to be too clingy. You fall in love with me, you fall in love with my self-hate and all my imperfections and my perception that nobody could ever love. But, you are also falling in love with the way my eyes will smile when I’m with you, the way I’ll text you in the mornings just telling you I hope you have a great day. You’re falling in love with the occasionally humorous and/or thought-provoking things I say, and the way I blush when people ask me about you. But to me, the most important thing will be that you are falling in love with me, despite my thinking that is impossible.

  nine.
  We all screw things up, I screw things up. Especially with the people I love. I get needy, I get moody, I get distant, I want to be too close. I get confused; I don’t understand all of it. But I keep pushing because I hope in this thing, the universe, there’s no way I’m the only person out there who wants something this bad. If I want it, someone else out there must too.

  ten.
  I’m the sort of person that’s always dwelling on the destination rather than the journey. Even when I’m in a great situation there’s always this moving thought that it is all going to have to end.

  eleven.
  This is for the girls who don’t always win, who stay up all night listening to music that inspires them to do things next to impossible, the girls that laugh, smile, and cry all on a daily basis, the girls who like, learn and regret, the girls who may never have it easy, the girls who learn the hard way and live to tell about it.

  twelve.
  You always disappoint me. It’s kind of like our own inside joke, except it’s not funny.

  thirteen.
  And that’s what you do when you care about someone. You fight like hell to make sure you keep them. Even if they aren’t yours, you fight just to know you’re alive. Because you know that without them, you’d have no reason to breathe.

  fourteen.
  Life is too ironic to fully understand. It takes sadness to know what happiness is. Noise to appreciate silence. And absence to value presence.
  
  fifteen.
  I thought about life, about how we feel lonely, sometimes to the point of tears, but we don’t let those tears come because we are not supposed to cry. Or how we feel a surge of love for a partner but we don’t say anything because we’re frozen with fear of what those words might do.

  sixteen.
  My thoughts tend to sound better in books I didn’t write, and in the songs I didn’t sing. Even then, sometimes there is no piece of literature, no song, no work of art that can really explain the way you feel. There is a double-edge comfort in knowing that no one really knows.
  

  • 11:24 pm
  • 2 Comments