Have faith in me.

college tips 

- dont wear your lanyard around your neck

It’s the long brown hairs left in my bathroom shower. And the five bobby pins left on the living room floor. It’s the floral scent of her body on my bed sheets. The cup of tea she always forgets to drink. It’s my socks and hoodies she steals from my closet and my unfolded blankets always left on the sofa. It’s these little things that make my home, a home. I’m surrounded by these four walls but they are not what I call home. Home is when she sleeps on the left side of the bed. And home is when she cooks in the kitchen and makes the apartment smell of herbs and spices. Home is baking cookies at midnight because we’re high and hungry. Home is her falling asleep in my arms while watching a movie. Home is not these four walls; home is having her put her makeup on in front of the mirror and her running into my arms as soon as we get home. Home is shared blankets and falling off the bed because somehow her little body claims 75% of the bed. Home is dinners at the kitchen table and kisses in steamy showers. Home is the love that she burns through my veins. It’s the little things like the shirts and sweaters she leaves behind. Home is moving in with no furniture and eating Chinese food on the living room floor, the very first night. It’s wrestling matches followed by “I love you.” My home is not built by these four walls; my home has beautiful brown eyes, a voice of an angel, kisses made from heaven, two hands perfect for me, and a heartbeat that dances with mine.

If you have to convince someone to stay with you, then they have already left.

Find enough strength in yourself to drain your veins of the toxicity other people left in you.

I remember the nights you and I would lie in the grass, staring at the stars in the night sky and you would pluck each star and place them in your hair and I swear to god the sky was envious that its children looked more beautiful in your hair than in its arms. I remember the days when you were too sad to let a word spill out of your lips, I could tell the thoughts in your head had started to drip in your veins and you were drowning, oh god, you were drowning. I remember the nights you and I would talk so loudly, I could see each word spark against the walls, igniting fires in your eyes, and you looked magnificent, the flames you could wear without a flinch. I remember the days when you would shut every window closed, every curtain shut, and every breath of air filtered, I guess you tried to lock out the world from touching your raw skin, as if just a gentle caress would break you right then and there. I remember the nights you and I would paint, your favorite color was gold, so we would adorn our scars and leave them shimmering, trying to pretty up the pain they were birthed from. I remember the days when the paint had smudged and you could barely breathe, we both knew that beautiful things all eventually get killed in this cruel world, and the colors in your eyes had begun to fade. I remember the nights you and I would scream, but lately your voice had begun to crack and you told me you felt so empty, as if you kept dripping and nothing could replenish you anymore. And then you were gone. You left me, you left me, you left me, you left me. And maybe I should have watched you closer, letting you know that even flowers get sad sometimes. Maybe I should have placed more stars in your hair to take away your dark thoughts. Maybe I should have taught you how to swim when all you felt was poison in your lungs. Maybe I should have lit your room on fire to show you that there were friends in your walls and not fiends. Maybe I should have used better paint to cover your scars. And I am so sorry that you were too gentle for this harsh world. And I am so sorry that I can only hope you are held better than the way I held you. And I am so sorry that all I can think about is how much I want you to be here again, even when I know you were struggling every single day. And I am so sorry that I cannot even look at the stars, or the flames, or the water, or even gold, without seeing how much more beautiful the stars looked in your hair than in the sky, how you wore flames better than candles, how you looked flawless even when you were drowning, and how you would shine so brightly when you were painted in gold.