you want to know what goes on inside my head?

you want to know what goes on inside of my head?

i think about memories and why i can never seem to remember details of my own life. i only remember fragments of my past. i have a very bad memory. you know what’s funny though? i remember everything pertaining to love. i remember every detail of the who and the when. who is the person i have come to love? when was the last time i couldn’t get enough? when did i decide to let things go? i remember the way he poked my side and said, “i miss you. can we be friends again?” i never gave anyone the cold shoulder because i didn’t know how to say no. i lost myself in words, but words never gave me the right way to apologize. i am not perfect.

you want to know what goes on inside of my head?

how they look at me and ask, “is this all you want out of life? is this it? you want to stay here forever?” i am not privileged, contrary to popular belief.

you want to know what goes on inside of my head?

i want to write a book about you. i want to write songs about you. then maybe i will make something of myself. one day, i will use you as a cover up from when i was innocent. i really did love you. i did not want your body. i did not want a thing but for you to be trustworthy. i demanded loyalty because if you bend that, there is no going back. i knew what you did before anyone told me. you say, infatuation. you say, mistake. you say, i’m sorry. i say youth made us stupid.

you want to know what goes on inside of my head?

you never learned how to love, so there was no need to search for it at home. you go out and have fun, thinking you just want to live in this moment. your friends fight with each other and they talk bad about each other behind their backs, so we lose trust. then you meet and guy and eventually your friends stop coming around. they’ll say, “she loved a guy more than her friends.” not true. friendship saves you, but love makes you. everyone stops talking to you, but you’ll make new friends. you’ll find new lovers. you’ll find a different reality where you aren’t going to be upset. when they tell you times heals all wounds, you’ll finally believe it. you won’t need to text them anymore. you won’t need to call them anymore. you won’t even miss them that much. you’ll eventually not love them as much. you’ll find new things to fill your life with. you’ll find new things to be proud of. maybe you want to write music. maybe you want to travel. maybe you want to settle down. maybe you want to write a book. maybe you want to change how your body looks. maybe some of us will just become fools for gold.

you want to know what goes on inside of my head?

we put labels on everything. it keeps our sanity in check to say “this is my boyfriend” instead of pestering questions. are you two a thing now? how long have you guys been hanging out? do you love him? are you happy? — why does it even matter to you? you don’t care. it is just useless gossip that will spread like wildfire. that’s the world we’re living in.

you want to know what goes on inside of my head?

the world we live in — we made it that way. the food you eat at 3am that doesn’t go away even after going to the gym 5 days a week. the hearts you have broken will speak volumes when you love someone new. the memories we have forgotten makes us feel less human as the years slip by. we are living in an age where the numbers that represents our likes on instagram match our personality. we have become so hallow when we pretend that we are happy. in reality, we are all a bit broken. we die with our lives in our palms asking ourselves, was it worth it? did i live a worthy life? did i live enough? did i love enough? did i matter? i haven’t lived much of live, but i have tried to love all the broken pieces of it. one day i hope to love a florist who wants to shower the world in flowers and save the bees. one day i hope to love a baker who wants to sprinkle icing on every mistake i have ever made. one day i hope to love a writer who wants to squeeze stories into my mind and fill me with creativity. one day i hope to love an artist who loves to make me his muse until one day the heartbreak creates his actual work of art. one day i hope to love myself enough to tell my children they can be whatever they want to be. i believe in you, i’ll say.

you want to know what goes on inside my head?

it is so corny and cliché to say this, but please believe me when i tell you this. if my elders, parents, teachers, and siblings told me that simple phrase with a smile, even if they didn’t mean a word of it — i believe in you. i was smaller back then, much more fragile and gentle, much more whole and fearless, much more vibrant with life and happier, much more of when i loved everything and everyone, much more than i could ever be now — i will have remembered my memories.

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