“you’re up early!”

Can I tell you a secret? You don’t have to be in a relationship.    I mean it. I know they force it down your throat until you choke on it. Girls aren’t pretty unless they’re wanted. Boys aren’t men unless they’re having sex with someone. People aren’t lovable until they’re dating someone.    But a relationship won’t always make you happy, and as wonderful as romance is, it isn’t the only love that exists. I have seen friendships that are deeper and more pure than couples who swear it’s forever - and yet the friendship is the one people ignore.    I have heard so often “nobody loves me” out of the mouths of people who are single. And it kills me because if you ask them: where are your parents, your teachers, your classmates, your pets - they say, yes, okay, but it doesn’t count. Of course it counts, love doesn’t diminish just because someone doesn’t want to have sex with you. In fact, doesn’t it sort of make that love more real that they want nothing - not even a date - out of you?   It is pretty to be in love. It’s magical, I’m sure. But it’s also wonderful to stop for ice cream in your prom dress with six other girls. It’s also wonderful to go visit the world with nothing but a bunch of buddies who are really excited about learning.    The problem is: we’ve made everything about “the one”. But maybe “the one” is just you, loving yourself, having fun, and being happy. Maybe instead of looking for our other halves, we should be piecing ourselves together.   Maybe I wasn’t born unfinished. Maybe I am the one who makes myself better.

Growing up with eczema

they will not write about us because darling we’re not in love and we both know that poems ought to be about lovers or brothers not best friends halfway in the middle god, i’d never kiss you but our hands fit like puzzle pieces and your smile makes my heart sing and you cried when you said you love me voice thick with fear and awe and i knew then i could break you and that terrifies me because you deserve better but i would die for you when i was thirteen my bedroom window looked out on the big dipper every summer and it made me feel safe but if every star in that constellation went out i’d still have your hands smoothing a brush through my hair (your eyes shine brighter than those distant suns anyway) we are not the stuff of legends in this world where it’s only love if you fuck the stories people want to hear end in a kiss not a high five or a fistbump but if i’ve got you i don’t need to make history and while you do not kiss away my tears you let them seep into your shirt and to me, that is just as good