But you had promised that this would be the last of it. But I guess it doesn’t work that way, does it now? But that’s what makes this magic, darling; that’s why you continue throwing stones at my window in the middle of the night, knocking on my door at dawn. But that’s also why I keep on inviting you in – inside this house, inside this bed, inside of me. But our attempts at making love have failed, darling, I am left with nothing but an empty heart and a broken promise. But maybe love isn’t everything. But then again, maybe I’m just the horizon you run to when everything else has failed. But I suppose all that matters is this: I found myself the moment you found me, and I’m scared that if you stop seeing something beautiful in me, I will too.
we get up early.
we give up early.
we grow up early.
but we’re all too late.
lovely little me
I like being understood because it doesn’t happen very often. I start singing Christmas songs in May, so I’m sick of them by December. I smile a lot. I like being around people who make me a better person. I don’t understand cameras, I just take pictures that mean something to me. I have a routine for everything, which is why I get so excited about small random things. I don’t like talking, but I talk a lot. Stuffed animals and miniature cars? Beast. I tend to tell people they smell good; it’s kind of creepy. I describe myself as kind and understanding, but I’m scared that I’m not. Nature moves me. I used to be really really smart, but I’m not anymore. I love music because it loved me first.
do better.
take my advice, never think twice.
we seldom think before we leap and we seldom stop before we speak.
sometimes I write the words “do better” on my wrist.
but it’s not enough of a reminder it seems.
I’m a terribly worrisome being.
I don’t make much sense. and I’m tired of being asked if I’m okay.
please don’t touch me when I’m angry.
I don’t believe in love sometimes because it’s not something I’ve seen last.
stop assuming you know anything about anyone.
I just want to live in a little house with soft gray walls, lots of windows, a piano room, and a cat.
I like thinking about the ocean and the way the wind roars.
the cold gets into my bones.
scars are just stories told in whispered trembles.
bravery is doing what you don’t want to do.
finish something, anything.
make a big mess on purpose so you won’t do it by accident.
learn that sometimes you won’t be ok until you’re ready.
always dance.
be afraid and do it anyway.
be better than I am.
do better.
do better.
Sometimes I think of all the lies I tell. The small, seemingly insignificant lies that I often don’t even notice. I think of how everyone must tell such lies. And then I wonder how anyone is capable of taking the world seriously.
