Sometimes I pull my hoodie over my head in the solitary of my own house because experiencing the world with the same senses that used to taste your name, see your long golden hair on my chest, inhale the clean sharpness of your perfect body and hear each mind-numbingly beautiful echo of our existences...Is too much... 

But I can still feel your gentle touch through the black cotton against my tear-polished face.

Never be embarrassed for trying. Whether you've been trying for a week, a year, or a lifetime. 

At least you had the courage to try. That's something a lot of people don't have. 

Keep trying. Keep going. 

Is there somewhere where I can get a spoiler alert of what's going to happen on this date tonight?

You know how every once in awhile you see a person, and you just can't stop looking at them? You can't stop stealing glances from the corner of your eye?

And it has nothing to do with their attractiveness, there's just something else about them that keeps coaxing your eyes in their direction?

And you just cannot put your finger on it, or understand why you're having that kind of innate response to someone you don't even know?

Well, I went through that today... and I never knew someone could have such an effect on me without even saying a word.  

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'm on my way to happy..

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.