darling fetch the battle axe

I dream too much, work too little.

Don’t date a writer because they bleed words.

I miss you, And not in a “it’s one in the morning, I’m so lonely, looking through old pictures” kind of way. I miss you, In a “my friends are all laughing, and so am I, but somehow you still haven’t left my mind” kind of way. I miss you, And not in a “someone asked me how you were today and I realized I didn’t know the answer” kind of way. I miss you, In a “nobody has brought you up in months, but I still tell stories about you” kind of way. I miss you, And not in a “it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m alone” kind of way. I miss you, In a “you did well on a test and I want to be the first person you tell” kind of way. I miss you. I don’t just miss the idea of you. I miss you.

When you reach That Point after hours of socializing

I want to be inside your darkest everything.

Anxiety is to me, what your shadow is to you. Do you get it now?

I find a strange comfort in sadness. It’s what I know and no one can ever take it from me because there is nothing to take. It almost feels a little like home to me, like it’s where I belong. I grew up here and it’s the place I always return to…. No matter what I do or where I go in life I always end up back here. For me, there is a distinct fear in happiness. Deep seated and unrelenting because I know deep down it won’t last. It’s never truly mine, and eventually something or someone will take it away because it doesn’t belong to me. Like you never did.

I want to give you the universe, but all I can offer is me.