I fell in love with you not because you’re the richest or the most handsome guy on earth. I fell in love with you because, when we’re together, everything gets a little bit different yet so very special for me. I fell in love with the way you look at me; with the way your eyes speak to me even when we’re just blank and staring at each other. I fell in love with the way you run your fingers into my hair, with the way you caress me and with how you easily put a smile on my face. I fell in love with the way you hold my hand, as if you’re not going to let someone take me away from you. I fell in love with the way you care for me; with the way you ask me about how did my day went. I fell in love with the way you calm me down when I can’t even help myself; those sleepless nights when you’re just here on my side, ready to listen to my endless dramas and stories in life. I fell in love with the way you handle all things no matter how tough the situation may seem. I fell in love with all your little efforts, those things that make me realize how blessed I am to have you in my life. I fell in love with you, the whole you— your personality, your dreams, and goals in life; that someday, I know; we’ll both achieve and going be a part of the success of each other. I fell in love with you and I’m ready to give a part of myself to you. I fell in love with you and I absolutely love you just as much as you do.

My mother once told me that people who like sweets are the happier ones. And I was a six year old girl, cradling a pack of candies in her arms, wide eyed and foolish. I believed in every word so I laughed and laughed until the tears were make believe butterballs and lollipops in my hungry mouth. I smiled and smiled until goodbyes tasted like the sap from freshly picked flowers from our garden. I loved the smell of brownies and cookies and cupcakes waking me up an hour early for school. My mouth would hunger for the sweetness, the sugar, the happiness. I was happy. Twelve years later, I have gone from milk chocolate to 70 % dark. I have thrown out the remaining containers of sugar from my pantry. I drink my coffee black, like my depended on it – with desperation, with hopelessness. I stopped asking for desserts because my mouth refuses to welcome visitors who will beat me down into fine pieces of self hatred. I can no longer remember how sweetness tastes like without wanting to cry. Mom, here I am. Twelve years later, I stopped stealing cookies from the jar, and keeping a pack of candies in my bag. Mom, here I am, wanting to prove to you that I can also be happy without the extra dash of sugar in my life.

gallivant

Tonight, you attempt to fill the gaps underneath your skin with emptier promises, greedily taking words from a boy whose smile you think could chain phenomenas to a stop. He tells you one afternoon when all your hands could do is fold, that sometimes life can be traced out of fortune cookies, or patterned palms, or even the direction the wind chooses to go. And in this observation, he sees you standing beneath mist and hale and for once, he says, something other than pain managed to set his soul on fire. He tries to take your wounded grins and merge them with the rest of his. Because, he notes, the sky only bleeds when two people fall together. And you’re falling. Past birds whose wings need mending. Past gigantic snowstorms and into the eyes of hurricanes reaching their climaxes. Falling, falling, falling. Stumbling and catching the wind into the dots carved onto your arms and you feel him. Right next to you. He uses his words to give your heart several jumpstarts, and he attempts to heal both of you with promises simply meant to reassure himself. But tonight, you take his words and war with them. Because you know, that the only way to truly remember is if the moment leaves a scar.

Here’s the truth: No one is ever always there for you and this is why you are going to have to learn how to keep yourself company. Don’t depend your happiness to other’s hands because I am telling you, they’ll fucking break it. Every time.

“I’m always soft for you, that’s the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say ‘come here, it’s been too long, it felt like home with you.’”

She treats you the way she wishes someone would treat her. So please don’t be annoyed if she keeps asking if you’re alright. It’s just because no one ever asked her.

His dry eyes staring at you while you fall apart.

At first I was mad that you didn’t try to save me. Then I realised I was a hypocrite. I didn’t try to save me either.