you said that we have a hard time writing happy things because we’re two hands too many when it comes to the clock, and we point to the seconds with anxiety and fear that one day we’ll never get a chance to feel love.
you said that we have a hard time adjusting to happiness because a part of us wants to stay sad as if depression had levels and we’re on the most difficult setting — only two inches away from the tv screen. we are freaking out that if we looked away for a split second, the pit of darkness will have swallowed us alive.
we are allowed to breathe, but we will never live again.
you said we have to remain hopeful because that’s all we really have. in this one lifetime, we can’t lose hope. the second that we do, it’s all over. i don’t even really want your prayers. although those rare, few times i do, i always have a few spares for you.
my heart is personified, my soul anchored by the sea, my mind set free. you cheer me up when i’m down.
my best friend. you once told me a story about a little girl who wrote poetry with her eyes while lost and alone. if i ever find myself questioning if life is worth the battle, all i ever really need to think about is you. listen to you. look at you. touch you. wait for you. love you.
my heart is a drunken mess. stumbling and stuttering out words of endearment and pure joy to be in your presence.
it’s going to be alright. i found hope in your eyes the last day we met.
and that hope? i’ll hold onto it forever.