bare.

i don't know what this is.
i don't know what i expect or what i hope for.
and i don't know what i should expect or hope for.
i've just stopped really expecting or hoping for much, i guess.

would you like to be something impossible with me?
maybe together, it doesn't have to be so impossible.
some things are just there to challenge you.
maybe that's all it is. a mere challenge.
i'll fight on if you'll fight on.
just say the word.
confirm me.

we can still find safety and love in maps and miles.

i've thought enough for the both of us.

the night is lonely, and if you let it, it will swallow you whole.

i've tried many a night to fall away from every thought in my mind - buried my head into the dark of my bedroom and the soft of my pillow and hoped that it would carry me off to sleep. sometimes, this happens. sometimes i pass out before i'm aware how much i want to sleep, because sometimes, i stay awake longer than i really need to, until, like i said, i pass out. but i don't know how to stop thinking. i don't know how to shut off. i don't know how to stop lingering on everything around me, on what i have and what i'm missing. what i've had and what i've lost. what i want and what i can't have. who. all the situations i wish i could find myself in. the words i wish to say but can't for fear that they will not bring with them all the meaning i think into them. all the impossibilities and never-ever's that i want to reach because that's what i desire and long for. the negatives and the pure. the places i want to go with you and experience by your side. the things i want to see, but never alone. not once alone.

i want to feel your hand in mine and sit down in a vacant space of soft grass at night, and watch our very own personal fireworks display to light up the sky with stars that never seemed quite as beautiful as they will then, in that moment.

i long to reach that pinnacle moment of sincere love where there is nothing but constant bliss, no fear that something may go wrong or that we do not belong where we are, because all that surrounds me is all that means anything, and all that surrounds us is our version of home, of family, of safety, our constant belonging.

i wish to stand in times square basking in the lights of new york city by your side, snow falling, cars passing by, voices and their respective owners drifting along, and none of that matters because we're lost in our own little world, perfectly mediocre to outsiders, perfectly flawless to us.

i yearn to cut off all the ties that wrap around and smother me that connect to feeling unsatisfied with the person who runs around in this skin, a little less impressive and wanted than everybody else.

i crave spending time and time and time to discover our own modern love that feels real, more real than we could have ever imagined, as if we had felt it all along and when we came together we woke it up, and that fragile little feeling and the world had never felt more alive until then, as if we had turned on every light in our hearts at once and had been given a new spark, as if our frail bodies had suddenly become complete as they'd never known how to be. as if we had annihilated loneliness at the seed and birthed a victory that our body and souls and thoughts and everything that makes up us cheer along to.

i want and crave and lust and desire many things, and eventually, someday, maybe i will have them. maybe i won't. maybe some things can never become a reality. and that's okay, i guess.




"nobody gets exactly what they thought they'd get, but if you work really hard and you're kind, amazing things will happen."




sometimes, you learn to numb yourself and enjoy the slow sunrise.

passion.

someday, someone's going to make me really happy. and i will be the best person i can possibly be - passionate, strong, brave and kind. not awkward or quiet or shy in all the wrong ways. but i guess they won't be wrong, because you'll love them just as well, as i will you.

i will give you everything i can. completion. total and absolute adoration. i think, someday, you're going to be really happy.

someday, i'm going to be really happy.

i'll see you then. i hope you don't get lost along the way.

temporary.

negativity.

i want unhealthy, unbalanced, and unsafe. i want to become involved in the most unhealthy relationship; a violent, bittersweet mess. i want us to do things that i only hold significant to a certain vain point, because we are only significant to a certain vain point, to linger, fight, fuck, lay, and repeat, and do everything to become the embodiment of hollow. i want you to feel love, and i will feel nothing as i smoke my cigarette and stare at the ceiling. when you are lonely, i will feed you temporary illusions that will fade when you wake. i will birth sadness and you will give it a home, and abandon it and take it back in again. we will be broken incarnate. i want us to be uncertain of everything, but always knowing that we aren't together in the romantic sense; we're together in the way that i don't give a fuck anymore, and you don't know any better, and we've become entangled in an insincere clutter.

we want to destroy ourselves, and this is how we've chosen to do it, like it or not.

i want to fucking destroy you.

The House

there are people you like, and then people you love. people you love where you just want them to be happy, whether you're in the picture or not; as long as you're by their side, even if it's not your fingers entwined with theirs. their happiness is a part of your happiness. you get lonely sometimes, sure, but as long as you are able to be by their side, you can make due with what you have and be content with it.

i am not as well acquainted with this love. i have spent many months, days, weeks, minutes, seconds with people that fall into a mere liking; a hollow shell of which love found too lacking to take residence in. and with all of these people, it has ended the same way: i sense the illusion i have created, open my eyes and begin to backtrack. make like a thief and run off and act selfish before i take more than i can carry.

i built the house and moved in, but i built the house sloppy and left the door hanging off it's hinges.

so when the real thing comes full bloom, in all it's near-indescribable glory, it comes full force, sweeping over me like that one lone warm wisp of wind on a winter day. i hold onto it more than anything else and handle it with delicacy not seen by anyone, or anything, else in my world. it becomes almost like mental warfare, as i fight myself on decisions, and the importance of words and saying them or typing them or spelling them out in the most meaningful of ways, and expressing myself in a way that settles in that perfect center between trying too hard and trying too little, and the possibilities of outcomes, and the perfect way to spend time with you because i believe you deserve nothing but the best and anything less isn't worth the effort or time you could give, and everything fragile and frightening and exciting and perfect about progress and the things that lure it into existance, and letting myself fall vulnerable and open and not being afraid to show that i am weak, that i am not perfect, that i admit to my mistakes, my human error, and not being afraid to show you who i am and who i want to be and what i want to be to you and all the hidden, quirky things in me that nobody else has the shovel to dig out of me or the beautiful eyes to see.

i want to build a house that stands sturdy on it's foundation, with colours that treat the eye much like how trees do as they come to life again after winter's terrorism, with furnishings perfect, inviting and comfortable, and a bed that refuses to let me dream of wicked things. i want to find a comfort in this house, and the door that locks shut, safe and sound.