We can’t understand people. We can’t understand why it takes them to lose you to miss you. To hate you to love you. To misunderstand you to get you. We can’t seem to open our eyes and like what we see so we close them tight and dream for better. But more often then not, better never comes, because better is what you have. We’re too quick to let go and too excited to move on. Sometimes the very something we’re moving on from, is the very something we’re looking for.
If you heard someone cry would you hug them? If you watched someone trip would you pick them up? If you felt someone die would you save them?
Day after day we can save someones life, we can show them the light, we can share what we know. We should all be so lucky to find someone whose seen the dark for those people know how to shine light when we need it ourselves. But sometimes the people who have seen the dark, leave their problems there.
Sometimes we’re scared of hugging, in fear of them holding too tight. Sometimes we’re scared to pick someone up, in fear they’ll pull us down. Sometimes we’re scared to save someone’s life, in fear we will forfeit our own. And sometimes we’re scared to share the lessons we learned, in fear of turning around.
Our teen years fixate on the popularity of the girl with pretty long hair and a drinking problem. The jock like boyfriends that will bend over backwards to hold their books and the instant glamour that can be found when accessorizing with pink. It’s the kind of life we hate to want.
We try to make a normal so far from what we know, but it’s a matter of time before we realize people don’t change, they simply can’t. We can fight who we are for as long as we have the strength but eventually it’s inevitable and we give up the act. The twenties come with a lot of hardships, a lot of obstacles we must overcome but while we’re occupied with the more serious problems in life, we forget to pretend to be someone else. There is no better time to embrace who you really are then a time where no one has a clue.
It’s the kind of pain we didn’t know love had to offer. The kind of love we hate to admit, for the times we saw the destruction, when the pain wasn’t worth the reward, we didn’t put the fire out. Instead, we watched it burn to ashes in a regretful fall out.
When the fall out happened and bitter resentment was strong, your jokes were at me, not to me. You didn’t pick up when I called. You brushed off my problems, my pleas, my maybe I was wrong. I live to wonder if you were worth settling for, but without you I’ll never know. Without you I can’t help but think, the burn from the flame was better then the ashes of us.
Of course we want perfection. We want the best picture, best job, best hair.
But perfection is when you see his crooked teeth beyond the gap of his smile. It’s the scar on your arm from where you fell out of a tree at age eight. The way you hold your fork the wrong way and the phobia you’ve hid for so long. It’s the way your moms voice echoes through the house and the family bickers on Christmas day. It’s the times someone stutters mid sentence, the times you fall asleep on the phone. It’s the way you snore in your sleep when you dream of perfection. But what society won’t tell you, is that perfection is imperfection and imperfection is perfect.
If Taylor Swift had a blog, she would write about graceful movements across the dance floor. Flawless hours making up for past suffering. Watching someone leave before even letting go. She would write about the bittersweet feeling of seeing someone love. The wonder hidden within life. The revenge hidden within words. She would write about the harmony of pastel colours. The complexity of paisley patterns. The therapy in a cup of tea. The glamour of sweatpants. The battle of self-resentment. The relief in self-discovery. The for better or for worse of uncertainty.
She would say love is pain and pain is inevitable. Everyday is a new challenge, a new yesterday. A fate left to zodiac signs. A fate left to if it’s meant to be.
Taylor Swift knows if you fall down and scrape your knee, it’s a good day to wear a skirt for our imperfections aren’t something worth hiding. Our imperfections are the very something someone will one day fall in love with.
They say dating’s a numbers game, leaving no hope for the girl that can’t settle. You see something you want, you forfeit your emotions and more often then not, you get nothing in return. It’s not your fault you’re holding out, waiting for someone worth loving, waiting for someone willing to figure out your connect the dots.
It’s always been this way. You’re always steps ahead of yourself. You know the answer before you even ask the question. You know your ideal life and when people don’t fit into it, or they take it from your control, you don’t change your plan – you change them. To you, people are a puzzle piece and you won’t accept anyone that doesn’t complete your big picture.
Don’t let your guard down. Don’t cut your dreams short. Don’t let go of your overall. One day someone will put an end to your doubts. One day you will look into someone’s eyes and see where you stand with them and the thought of standing alone will never again make sense.
To lose you is to admit defeat to a world that works against us. A world offended by simple love. To lose you is to hate the universe for the happiness it takes to soon. The futures it cuts too short. I offer to lose you time and time again; hoping fate will tire and move on. Turns out fate has those same plans for me.
Fate has no patience. No hesitance. No we’ll see how it goes. No mercy on the love letters or the people who sign them. Fate gives you a box of tools and the hands to use them. Gives you people to love and the hands to hold them.
Fate’s a coincidence that works out. A consequence meant to last. This is the last time I’ll lose you, as I fight an impossible battle but, as fate has promised, this will one day make sense.
They tell you to discover yourself. They tell you to find the true meaning of life, the reason behind your being, but it’s all downhill from there. Once you dissect the bigger picture, hold awareness for the danger, the true pain life sets us up for; it’s hard to go back. It’s hard to live the same. You realize purpose is simply an illusion. There is no purpose like there is no promise. There is no finish line beyond the struggles; there is no sense of pride that death can’t concur. It’s time you find reason. It’s time you start living, ’cause once you start looking for death, you will never find life.
Girls will meet you. They’ll shake your hand, learn your name and catch a glimpse of your smile.
But they’ll never know the comfort I get, when my hand is interlocked in yours. They’ll never know the places we’ve been or the stories we’ve told, all while never letting go.
They’ll never know the times I called your name, laughing and yelling as I surrendered to your tickle match. They’ll never know the pain behind the times I dialed your phone, drunk and vulnerable at two a.m.
They’ll never love your smile like I do. Embracing every chance to make you happy. They’ll never hear the jokes you mutter, from your half amused smirk.
To her, you are just another handshake. Another name, another smile.
To her, you are just another guy.