I lost what I had most precious on earth. I lost the only person who could make me a better human being, who opened on my eyes on so many things and so many different levels. I messed everything up and my life is a mess now. I don’t listen to music anymore, i don’t eat, I don’t sleep, i have nightmares, I cry, constantly. I just write. I write about everything i did wrong and how I could fix it, even though i know it is too late. I don’t wanna give up because nothing has ever been this important to me, and I just can’t let that get away from me. I wish I could go back and get involved even more. But I can’t erase or change the past, I can only hope for the best in the future and try to fix it. Because when you find the one, you don’t give up.
it probably seems like i cry over stupid shit but tbh i usually end up crying because i’ve stored up all of my upset feelings from multiple things rather than express them and then the littlest thing sets me off like spilling my drink may not be that big of a deal but when i’ve stored up that many negative emotions it feels like i busted a hole in the hoover dam
When real love surprises you, you will be stuck in traffic, laughing at your predicament. It’ll take you half an hour to move two blocks, but neither of you would rather be anywhere else. When real love hits, you will be riding shotgun. By this point, you’ll have taken off your heels because the ache is no longer worth it, and he will tell you that you look beautiful. When real love washes over you, he will tease you for stealing his ice cream but will give you some anyway. And though you’ve had trouble sharing ever since the second grade, you’ll share too. When real love showers around, your heart will notice things your eyes had never seen: the warmth of his touch, the strength of his grasp, the beauty of his blue eyes. You’d never seen eyes so blue. Four months later, you’ll be able to remember the pure scent of the night air. You’ll feel the distance separating you from him, and you’ll long to bridge it. These months later, you’ll still be writing poetry about that first night. When real love hits, you’ll know.