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Suisa. 23. SF.

I’m getting older. This thing won’t age with me. I’ve started writing somewhere else. If you want it, let me know.

This is current.

I don’t hate you.

No, I haven’t forgiven you.

Yes, you need to grow up. 

One day we will run into each other.

As a romantic, this is how I picture it…

I’ll see you first because I have a sixth sense for things regarding you.

I’ll freeze and wonder if I should say something. You’ll save me by feeling my glance and looking back. We will lock eyes. We will exchange a glance. We will keep our distance. I will still love you because I’m an idiot. You will go on and look away, but you will linger. We will continue on our separate ways. 

The end.

None of this is relevant anymore.

I just forgot that I used to write things before.

Baby boy I know you’ve probably given up hope when it comes to change, but I swear to God people are just like the seasons. Yeah, don’t hold your breath. To be quite honest, I’m pretty stuck in this rut, in this room, inside my head. You’ve been working your ass off trying to pull me out, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. Just don’t give up, I’ll get this right one day. I know I’m young and dumb, but I have never loved someone so much so quick. Because the second I saw those shadows, those ghosts, haunting those brown eyes more bitter than mine, I knew nothing was going to stop me. You’ve got me.

Here we are.

Forever kids. Astronauts. Explorers. Magnets for each other.

You’ve become my best friend.

Maybe it’s the way you fucking sing. Like you mean it. Like the world is hanging off of everything fucking word you say.  That mouth. That voice. Those lips.

Maybe it’s the way you look at me. Like a curious little kid. Scared and hesitant. In love and swooning at the littlest things. Before the world lost it’s innocence. Sometimes, when we’re laying there on your bed, and you lay there with your nose touching mine, I feel like that look could swallow me whole.

He was like that bolt of lightening. Suddenly, you can see for miles. 

He was that bright light that you can’t keep your eyes off of. 

He was that note that you want to hold in your chest so tight and never let go. 

He’s soft and gentle, like he knows what you’re scared of.

He’s slow and careful, like he knows how it feels.

Falling asleep in your arms and seeing your face first thing in every morning… I haven’t been able to find words worthy yet so I’m not even going to try.

(…. but it feels like the rest of my life.)

It’s the warmest and most alive I’ve ever felt. It’s your hand in mine. It’s the eskimo kisses. The butterfly kisses. The way I can’t ever get enough of you.

The way we have been fighting (for) this since day one.


He can’t ever decide on his hair, whether it’s the hair on his face or his head. He’s always trying to grow an obnoxious mustache or hippie hair or stay clean shaven and clean cut. He acts really stubborn but he isn’t really. He mostly just likes to oppose me no matter what. It’s all about the challenge, the debate, the conflict. Also, he just likes pushing my buttons sometimes. Or at least, getting a reaction out of me. He likes testing me. He watches a lot of documentaries. He hates school and it’s killing him doing something he doesn’t believe in, but he says he has to secure his future. He’s passionate about what he believes in. He writes a lot of angry songs on his guitar. He drinks milk at inappropriate times. He keeps his t-shirts for a ridiculous amount of time. He is a closet nerd. He is a closet romantic. He isn’t as bad-ass as he likes everything to think. He’s actually really sensitive. He bites his nails and fingers but not really for any of the reasons you’d expect. Also, he doesn’t bite them as much when I’m around. He prefers cheeseburgers to hamburgers. He doesn’t like chocolate or PB&Js. He’s got a thing for little boxes. He’s got a thing for the country. He’s got a thing for traveling. He’s got a thing for me.

The night was going so well.

But isn’t that how it always is? Everything is great, but one thing goes wrong and it all goes to hell.

There’s something between us… to call it a natural chemistry would be an understatement and an insult, because the way we have remained tied together through everything is nothing short of miraculous and amazing. It’s a bond, and we can’t break it, as much as we try. Nothing he could do or say could stop how much I care for him.

I’m insensitive and careless sometimes, and he’s got a short fuse and isn’t the type to wait around to hear explanations. There’s so much truth lost in the heated moments of misunderstanding and hurt. There are too many actions and words in the name of in the moment anger.

I could never find a way to describe how I feel. I am always trying and always failing.

Here’s another attempt.

I feel like the walking wounded. I feel like my leg has been broken and I am being forced to run a marathon. I’m running and running because that’s what I’m supposed too do, but God, it hurts.

I feel like a stray cat, as long as I keep getting fed, I’m going to keep coming back.

I feel like a book you know too well, you come back to read your favorite parts, the parts that make you feel good and alive, but when it gets real, you put it back on your shelf.

I feel like your addiction, you get your fix and once you feel the side effects, you tell yourself you’re going to quit again.

You’ve quit again.