just because you are not mine, doesn’t mean i can’t wish you were.
happiness feels a million miles away and thousands of years in the past.
i read somewhere, that there is a day in the year that is always a catalyst. a day where you hit rock bottom for years on end. mine is november 9th.
someone asked me today what made me feel the most alive. and through tears i told them it was you.
pure bliss is a high i never want to be sober of. i feel on top of the earth my feet have always been glued to. this must be that freedom the wanderers speak of.
i am argumentative. i am opinionated. that does not make me loud.
i am completely fine cleaning up my own mess.
i’ve finally figured out what makes my life meaningful. it’s the color of leaves right before they fall, the quiet bliss after a friend leaves, the cool rain falling on my skin as i dance, the warmth of the sun wrapping around my body, and the feeling when a plane just takes off and you feel weightless. these are the things that i live for between grief and love and acceptance.
i have nothing to say anymore.
no matter how high i jump, how fast i run, how many cities i pass through, how many dollars i spend; i will always end up staring right back at you.