My blood churned, as did your lips with mine. A small, voluminous word could make a thought turn into a day until you were again there to bring what I believed was reality; a minute was worth the wait.

How did sentences form paragraphs when all we started with were whispers? I smiled, frequently, I even laughed; all the while a new, unattractive bubble fought my ignorance. “I am happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.”- Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephen Chvosky.

When you hope for life to get better and it refuses, you lose hope, gaining emptiness. When life is good and you count on a forever that doesn’t last, you get hot. You cry a lot. Explosion, when you adapt, splatters on your naive state of mind. I prayed to God to give me anything besides this cloud that made me want to rip up pictures and tell you things I knew I didn’t mean yet every fiber screamed. 

The tears didn’t stop until I had to answer questions. Reminders smack me when I try to look forward. Backwards, idiotic, pathetic; alone, yet surrounded and therefore more pathetic. ‘Time will heal’ but I’m used to pressing fast forward; I don’t know to function in pause. Remember that forever I counted on? 

But I often feel like things can tear me down. I’m okay so with an embrace people smile along. My knees beg me to let them hit the ground. Everybody goes through different versions of hell, my life seems to be going so well. I feel so small, but I can’t tell if that’s a bad thing at all.