#johnklein

3.22.15. 2:27am. last night was beautiful. even though it was only a few hours ago, it was beautiful- as simple and complicated at it was. you layed next to me and wrapped your arms around me. you intertwined your hands with mine, and you told me you love me, whispering it into my ear like you do all the time. you had made me pinky promise not to kill myself, and to try not to attempt. you made me pinky promise other things but i can't remember much because i was so infatuated with just laying with you. but for a while, our pinkies managed to stay hooked for what seemed to be eternity. my finger started to lose feeling, but i didn't. i think that we are the only two people ever to exist who play thumb-war at 11:11pm while my favorite song is playing in one of my ears, and you whispering you love me in the other. remember number two; i always win. in that moment, i realized how much you love me. and as much as i had to suppress my laughter from your thumb holding mine down, i loved every minute of it. i had felt the warmth of your breath on my neck. i had felt your eyelashes on my shoulder blades. i had felt your arm under my neck as i lay cuddled next to you. i had felt your finger making concentric circles on the back of my hand. i had felt your breath in my ear. i had felt every "i love you", and every laugh that slipped from your lips. i had felt you put the earbud back in my right ear every time it fell out after you held my face too much. i had felt your touch become softer yet more secure when i cringed in pain from not eating. i had felt everything. i didn't mean to fall asleep next to you but i did and im happy because i fell asleep in the arms of the boy i am in love with. you didn't care that my hair was a mess, just like the thoughts i contain in my mind. you didn't care that my socks didn't match, and you didn't care that my sweatpants were a bit too big on me. you didn't care that i had second day makeup on, and you didn't care that i had the tendency of staying silent at times when you talked to me. i had traced the word "stay" over and over and over again on your arm with my finger. i did it until you fully comprehended what i was writing. and even then you struggled to realize what i was inscripting on your skin. i wrote that in hopes that you would silently fathom that i didn't want you to leave me. please don't leave me. you know what happened after that. these adventures we have will one day be amazing stories we can tell our grandchildren. we can tell them what it feels like to be Bonnie and Clyde, Romeo and Juliet, king and queen of a dysfunctional disaster, and so much more. you make me go insane and i love it. every time you check for new scars, i grow fonder and fonder of you because i know you would give anything, even if it meant your life, to see me happy again. don't be afraid to be somebody with me. don't be afraid to be raw. pour your soul into me and don't be afraid of having to clean up the mess. every kiss through the window makes forest fires erupt inside my veins. i love you and that will not change.

3.4.15. 12.20 am. I think some people are good at being In Love, and some people are good at Love. Two very different things. I think Love is the obvious part. Sex all the time, laughing, smiling, always being around each other, the overwhelming seperation anxiety, etc. Love is easy. Love is he and I. Before I met him, people would always ask me questions about love. I would answer them as if I knew what I was even talking about half of the goddamn time. I didn’t know anything. Love. What is Love? I just gave them answers on what I thought the rules we had to abide to were. Fall in love, fall out of love, meet someone new, and do it all over again until you get tired of waking up to beautiful blue eyes one morning, to screaming at the moon another night. It seemed easy enough to create this routine around your heart and hope that one day it would stop doing laps and finally settle down and be quiet for a bit. Then I met Him. Him. Insanely adorable, hyper, crazy, smart, funny, beautiful, strangely challenging, caring, sweetheart, unpredictable, predictable. I didn’t know what adjectives to put towards the impossible being that is him. But i think this is Love: Love is falling and fighting but still managing to feel the way you felt when you first touched her hand. I think that a lot of people are good at Love, some better than others. I think that he and I are very good at it. But I am not naïve. I am not going to say that I say all the right things to him. I won’t say we are perfectly happy. There are plenty of times when I want to punch him in the face and push him as far away as possible from me, but I dont. and not many people know how to not push them away. Being In Love is a completely different aspect. That's when the harsh realities of life settle in. To be honest with you, I am in love with him. Which is not common for me to be with anyone. I was only in love with a past lover, and now him and I are just two strangers with some memories. But I think that once you are In Love with someone, you tend to see shit differently. You notice the little things. How they stay quiet when they are upset. How they fight for what they want. How they react, how they feel, how they talk, everything is noticed by the one who is with them. And now that he knows everything about me, be it physically, mentally, and emotionally, now is when i know we are In Love. I think that when you are In Love, you completely disregard their flaws and all. You don’t care about the acne. You don’t care about the morning breath when you wake up next to them. You only care about the fact that you woke up next to the love of your fucking life and you couldn’t feel any more luckier. It is when you know them inside and out and you still want them no matter how many scars litter their body, whether it be physically on their skin or emotionally on their hearts or mentally in their souls. Being In Love is being able to throw shit across the room and punch holes in walls and still wanting to lay down next to them under the same blanket. Being In Love, in my opinion, is seeing them as fucking magic. It is being able to look at them as Art; not as something nice. It is talking about them like they put the stars in your sky. But going back to the heart skipping laps, if your heart still manages to stop and skip multiple beats uncontrollably even after all of the fighting and yelling and screaming and in betweens, and even if you still want them after all the ugly sides have been shown, and even if you still want them long after the worst of both people have been viewed, that’s when you know- that’s when you know you’re good at Love.