You don’t have to write a novel, fill a gallery with art or direct a play to tell your story. Find a way that works. Find a way to tell your tragedy. To inspire the ones on the same path. Your story is the cuts beneath your skin. The bags beneath your eyes. The dirt beneath your nails. Not everyone can see and not everyone will understand but, the ones that do need you to use the dirt on your hands to help them build their own castle in the sand.
Sometimes I like that I believed your lies because it meant I thought the best of you. Sometimes I like how hard I tried to make things work, because it meant I was open to the idea of you. Sometimes I like the times things went wrong, because it meant I was willing to fight for you.
It’s bittersweet getting through something with the very person who put you though it, but I’m so glad I did because it meant life hasn’t yet, made me cold to the idea of love. And that’s because of you.
We are young adults. We are grown ups. We are twenty-something along those lines. It’s so much madness with unassigned words. It’s a dropped palette of paint, a rollercoaster with no set course.
To be twenty-something is to master the art of using minimal silverware. It’s beginner cookbooks and doodle filled notebooks. It’s broken hearts and drunken kisses. Big wide eyes and life in panic. Mornings that come with lessons, nights that come with regrets.
We are too many people, too few people. Too much change, too much routine. We are wide-awake at four a.m. We are, am I rich yet? We are prisoners of ourselves.
We’ve found ourselves trapped within a room with no walls; been following a map that’s upside down. We’ve found ourselves spinning dizzy in circles with excitement because we want what we want, right now. The problem is, we don’t know what we want.
I’m sorry you got caught in the wrath of a troubled, self-destructive girl. I’m sorry you were the one to grab my hand, just as I was falling off the edge. You marked my insecurities and took advantage of my unhealthy habits. You knew the way I cringed at the whisper of a compliment. I lost comfort when your hands reached for mine and I surrendered my ability to defend myself, time after time.
You used my moments of weakness against me. Insisting I was the reason we would never work. It’s a relief you’re behind me for, I know I didn’t lose my prince charming. In our fairytale, you were the Jester and I was simply the joke.
They say dating is 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.
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’ll look into someone’s eyes and see where you stand with them and the thought of standing alone will never again make sense.
Some people are simply motivation. Your enemy should make you want to be better, your ex should make you want to do better. You need someone to push you on stage despite stage fright. Someone to chase you in threat so you’ll run. Someone to taint your once confidence so you’re driven to get it back.
Don’t say someone never gave you anything because for better or for worse, they gave you a reason to wake up in the morning. As long as you come out stronger, you can’t wish for anything better. So, don’t feel sorry for yourself in hopes that someone else will too.
You don’t want to breakdown because you don’t want to challenge the people around you. You don’t want to see who would be there; you just want to believe they would all be.
You may mean the world to them, but no one’s life stops when yours does. You want them to push you, comfort you, convince you there’s good you can’t see. Maybe they can’t keep telling you things will be okay. They can’t call every lunchtime or skip every dinner. They can’t give you expectations that they’ll always be there because sometimes they won’t be. Sometimes your call will go unanswered. Your mind will be left to wander. You don’t want to breakdown because you know; sometimes the idea of someone has to be enough.