To you, dear stranger reading this:
have a nice day.
you can do it.
remember to be kind with yourself.
grab the opportunities that comes your way.
your dreams can be reached, it's not too far and you can make it come true
there's a place for you in this world.
there's someone waiting for you.
there's someone wishing hard to know you in person.
there's a buddy of yours hoping you'd visit him/her one day.
be okay and be safe~
One day a "love you" will just slip out and then... I dunno. I'd probably say oops, give you a sad smile, and leave.
sometimes, I’m like. fuck the stars man. fuck what the universe wants. I want you. There isn’t anyone else. It’s you.
the audience applauded. the piece was done. and i saw you, sitting just rows away, going with the flow and clapping for the orchestra sitting onstage. slowly, the applause died, and the conductor raised her baton again, ready for the next piece. i looked over at you again. why did all the seats have to be taken? in that split second, i made a decision, and ran towards you. if sitting in the aisle meant being near you, then so be it.
"this is a sad piece," you whispered down to me.
then those blue eyes turned back to the stage, to the bows dragging across the strings, notes floating across the auditorium. stage lights hit your hair, spun gold in the darkness, your closed eyes, savoring the music, your fingers, playing the melody on an imaginary cello.
ironic, isn't it?
you wanted to watch the show,
but you were my show.
I think I'm going to use this site to pull a Lara Jean and write a bunch of letters to my crushes.
Y'all, he got a haircut and I still think he's the cutest fucking thing.
Then he got glasses. Guess what? CUTE AS FUCK
Now he styles his hair different with these aesthetic glasses and a soft boy wardrobe. It's different from his emo, punk rock style from middle school. And guess what, you guys?
I'm still head over heels.