And if you should think about it, then you'd realize what a honor it truly is to be missed.
You made enough of an impression on someone's life, that they continue to think about you. They miss the effect you had on them. They miss your twinkling eyes, boystrous laughter, and the way they can lay their head on your shoulder. They miss the way you made them feel, or the way they could make you feel.
And even if you met them only once, the fact that you made enough of an impact for them to think about you, and want you back, is pretty damn remarkable.
To be missed is the greatest honor.
Whenever i see her face from the end of the hallway i get this huge rush.
I see the stars and all her adventures in her eyes,all throught her soul.
When i'm around you i think, wow i'd really love to have her in my life.. i think about how when you see a flower and it's beautiful, but when you pick it up it wilts and i'd hate to bring that to her life.
So here i am.. watching and admiring her stunningly beautiful soul. ..Waiting ..Waiting
The first conversation we ever had, was about monsters and other energy drinks. And that was when I knew.
I feel like... if I ever get the slightest bit happy, I'm betraying you. How could it be possible for me to feel any sort of happiness while we're not together??? Reality is telling me to move on, but my heart won't let me pull away. At this point, there isn't a side that I should or shouldn't go with - at this point, it's just a battle of endurance, of which one will eventually weaken first. Will reality win, break me down, and force me to finally rise above my feelings for you? Or will my heart win, and allow me to fall with relief back into your arms, whether they want me or not?
For the past few nights, he's been staying up late.
Too late. I didn't know it until last night when I woke up for some water.
"Babe? Why are you up? It's one AM. Come to bed," I mumbled sleepily. He sat at his desk. He was writing something. He smiled at me and looked down shyly.
"I will in a little bit, sweetheart. Go back to sleep, angel."
"What are you doing?" I asked tiredly. "Work can wait till morning."
"This isn't work," he said.
"Well what is it? I can't sleep unless you're in this bed, so what the hell?" I asked grumpily.
"It's a love letter."
"For who?" I rolled my eyes.
"Gee, I don't know, baby girl," he rolled his eyes and put the papers in the desk and he walked over to the bed and sank in beside me.
"Why are you writing me a love letter?" I wondered quietly as he pulledme to his body so I could fall asleep.
"Because you're a love letter kind of girl," he shrugged. "You also mentioned to me when we first started dating that cute texts are great and snapchats are lovely but there's nothing more personal and heartfelt than a handwritten letter."
"That was two years ago."
"I know. I'm sorry I didn't start sooner."
His letter to me was ten pages long.
And it was amazing.
I wish you were a book.
You would be my favorite book, one that is worn and soft because I take you everywhere with me. I want to know you by the scent of your yellowing pages. I want to memorize my favorite parts and highlight the bits of you that I like best. I want to write in your margins, melding my thoughts and yours. And I want to sign my name on the inside of your cover, not because you belong to me but rather because I want to be a part of you.
We were watching a movie. It was a Wednesday and it was just an average day. My hair was pulled back and I was laying with a book in my lap as I glanced up at the show for a few moments that I was only half watching.
He sat at the other end of the sofa, looking perfect as usual. He looked at me briefly. "You know what?" He asked.
"What?" I murmured looking at my book.
"I hate your label."
I stared at him. "What?"
"Girlfriend. I hate that word. I hate it so much. I don't want you to be my girlfriend anymore. I hate that word. You know what word I like? Fiancee. Or Wife. Those are beautiful words and they fit you much better. I hate girlfriend and I really hope you hate boyfriend. Because I do."
I gaped at him.
He got off the couch knelt in front of me and took my left hand. "I love you. If you don't want to be my fiancee, I'm still going to call you that," he informed me. "Because I hate girlfriend. And it's only a matter of time, my love. Will you marry me?"
"I hate boyfriend," I responded softly, tears clouding my vision. He grinned, ringed me, and kissed me.
I'm 18 and I just held hands with a guy for the first time. And although it was awkward, it was perfect :)
I was in the checkout line at Publix, when "Here Comes the Sun" started playing and the bagger at the end cried out at me, "Here comes the sun!"
I laughed and told him that his mustache looked good on him.
He returned the grin and said, "That smile looks prettier on you."