I always wonder if the people in my dreams really exist, someplace in this world…

You are absolutely perfect. And I am sick, in love with you. I always thought of the term “lovesick” as an over dramatic, unreal term. Until I met you. When I look at you, when you look at me…I feel an excitement that actually sort of makes me feel like I’m going to throw up. My heart jumps into my throat and I want to get up and run around or something. I call you perfect, and in my eyes it’s true. You are not flawless, I can see your flaws. But I love them. I love your shyness, I love you when you’re frustrated, I love your constant need to feel busy, I love your fidgeting, I love the way your glasses fog up sometimes, I love your awkwardness, I love your slight chubbiness, I love your sweaters, I love your dorky hobbies. I haven’t found a single thing I dislike about you ever since we met, I promise that. Your personality fascinates me, and I could listen to you speak for hours on end. In fact, I have. And I would do it all over again. Your genuine kindness is unlike anyone’s I’ve encountered before. You are so caring and nurturing. And you are so, so brilliant. You’re mind is amazing. You make me feel stupid at times, but not in a bad way, because you are never confident or patronizing in your intelligence.

I don't wanna wait for you, I don't wanna wake up thinking, hoping you could get it right this time

Losing him was blue like I’d never known

Missing him was dark grey all alone

Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you've never met

But loving him was red

I’ll put 

everything on hold just to be with you. Just to 

kiss you any time I want.

I hate the fact that only you know how to tickle me.
I hate the fact that only you know how to render me speechless.
I hate the fact that only you know how to turn me on so quickly.
I hate the fact that I can only be myself around you.
I hate the fact that only you know all my secrets and don’t judge.
I hate the fact that only you love the books I read and can talk with me about them.
I hate the fact that only you can make me feel so wonderful and whole.I hate the fact that only you can make me laugh wholeheartedly.
I hate the fact that you are the love of my life.

Everyone tells me that I should let go and just move on but there’s something inside of me that will not let this go. There’s something inside of me that says it’s not over, there’s still more, that if I keep trying maybe you’ll come back again. 

I wish that I could explain to you how much you mean to me. I was a completely different person before we met. I was quiet, shy, never fully trusting another person. You’ve shown me that it’s ok to be who I am, and that the people who really love me won’t think any less of me for it.

I wish I could tell you how much I love you. But there just aren’t words, are there? The friendship we have is the kind that only comes along once in a lifetime. The kind where we can know what the other thinks and feels without saying a word. You mean everything to me- there really isn’t another way to put it.

I wish you nothing but the best in your new life. It breaks my heart knowing that I won’t see you every day. I genuinely hope that you find all the happiness you deserve.

But I’m scared. I know it’s selfish, but I need you. And I need you to need me. It terrifies me that you could find someone else to pass the time with just talking like we have in your new life. Your friendship means more to me than anything else ever has, and I would be completely lost without it. I would like to think that I’m irreplaceable to you, and that there isn’t another person who could take my place in your life. But I’ve never thought that highly of myself.

Please don’t replace me. Please remember to call me when you can. I’ll always answer, and I’ll always be there for you. No matter what happens.

I love you to the moon and back

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
 he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
 because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
 and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
 and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
 took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
 with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
 and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
 he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
 because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
 and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
 because of its new paint
And the kids told him
 that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
 with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
 when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
 his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
 when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
 he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
 because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
 and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
 because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
 of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
 making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
 or even talked
And the girl around the corner
 wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
 but he kissed her anyway
 because that was the thing to do
And at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed
 his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
 he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
 and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
 because this time he didn't think
 he could reach the kitchen.

Friendly reminder to myself:

It's okay to feel things. And be who you are about them.

So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.

It’s strange how you can love someone, even when they’re gone and out of your life. Even more, strange is how one can become numb and suppress those feelings when face to face with that person. 

There is a difference between goodbye and letting go.

 Goodbye is: I’ll see you again when I’m ready to hold your hand and you’re ready to hold mine. Letting go is: I’ll miss your hand, I’ve realized it’s not mine to hold, and I will never hold it again…

YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME TO BE FINE, I DON'T EXPECT YOU TO CARE

Life isn’t fair, and love is just bullshit. I wish I could bury all these feelings far away and stop falling for you more and more everyday

WHEN WE FIRST MET, I HAD NO IDEA THAT YOU WOULD BE SO IMPORTANT TO ME

I do hope that when you come back and finally figure out what it is that you want, it isn't too late.

And I’m still in love with you.

Fuck you for that. Fuck you for making me fall in love with you. And fuck me for being the fool to allow it to happen. I know better than this.

Here’s to taking the bull by the horns and getting over this heart-sickness. I’m no longer a by-stander in my own God damn life.

As much as I try to forget you, to realise you  hurt me and you 

did wrong to me, my heart has 

broken but all I feel is love. 

I love you, asshole