Well, Yeah

I guess you could say a best friendship is 100% finished when you get to the point where you no longer feel compelled to tell the person every single detail of your day.
Because she wasn't there.
And if she really was your best friend, she would've been.

And in fact, you really can't be bother to explain it all again.

Acceptance

I like how things are comfortable
I like how you think of me often
I like not worrying about what you'll think
I like being over you
I like loving you, and having you love me back

I don't miss knowing I'd never have a chance
I don't miss hiding things from you
I don't miss the incessant jealousy
I don't miss the awkwardness

But I miss the nights I'd go home needing to scream with joy
I miss the nights I'd lie in bed unable to sleep because of you
I miss how every song suited you
I miss how every moment with you seemed like a miracle
I miss the roller coaster rush
I miss the beautiful moments we had together
I miss how in love I was

The truth is, a few years ago, someone like you would've only existed in my fantasies.
But here you are, and you taught me how much I could feel.

If I'm a hundred percent honest, I miss being in love with you.

Dust

Morning
Class
Walk
Boiler Room

Sigh
Dusty
Old
Memories

Laugh
Smile
Touch
Sort through

See
Stop
Stare
Can't breathe

It's her dress.
The one she wore.
So very long ago.
The one that touched her beautiful skin.
The one that occasionally fell open.
The one that was HERS.
With her name still perfectly attached.
Preserved perfectly.
Like a terrible, horrible, wonderful memory.

The scream is so hard to contain.

Week Thoughts

When I awake and the world is frozen and silent, and my breath comes in clouds, I watch the sun rise like a wildfire and I know that somewhere, somehow, something really special is happening.

She's a dream character, that's what she is. I know because these days I only see her when I fall asleep, and I wake up with tears in my eyes and the perfect song in my head and this throbbing in my heart.

I think we should make more times for naps such as these, because it is so easy to feel at peace when your body is surrounded by such an important person and you can feel them breathing and assure yourself they're very much alive and existing.

Playing piano is sort of like transferring the music of my soul out into sounds. And usually I'm not quite sure what my soul sounds like, because it's changing a lot and, well, I'm still learning about it, so sometimes I find other people's music that seems to fit pretty well, and play it to be at peace with the world.

Why is winter so dark all the time, someone asked me once. I don't remember my answer, but if I had been thinking straight that day, it would probably be: to remind you how wonderful the light is.

Sometimes I ask myself why I spend so much time writing, and I think it's probably because things don't make sense in my head until I put them somewhere.

I think I always sort of assumed I was shy and would never get any braver, but then I kissed his cheek and remembered what a big deal that was four years ago, and suddenly I realized just exactly how far I've come.

I've noticed that most songs these days are love songs, and that seems reasonable to me because I don't think there could possibly be anything as big and monumental and incredible as love in the whole entire universe, and sometimes, if I'm lucky, I can see a tiny bit of it in your eyes.

I've decided the most important things in the world these days are relationships, love, music and inner peace.
...Knowing me, that'll have changed by tomorrow.

I've noticed I keep saying 'I' a lot. One might think that makes me selfish, but I say, who do I know better or spend more time with than myself?

Mute Girl

There's a girl who lives here
And she has a sickness
And she can't speak
And she opens her mouth but all that comes out is the breath
And that's the breath that's keeping her diseased life running
And so it's an endless cycle, you see
Breath. Silence. Breath. Silence.

The girl's lonely
And lonely as she stares at her reflection in the glass lake water
And lonely as the sun sets on her head once again
And setting her mind on fire
And she kneels in the dirt
And she doesn't cry because she's too quiet for that
It gives too much away

Sometimes people wander by her
And she's desperate for them
And desperate for them to fix her disease
And the disease that tingles in her mouth
And decomposes in her heart
And no one stays long enough
They aren't ready to repair something like that

She sees the boy sometimes
And she wants him to come
And wrap his eternal arms
And his boundless love
And surround her
And for once she doesn't have to love
And the voice will surge up from inside her
Like an ocean

Words Out

Walking.
Normal.
Her.
Close friends.
"I-"

Tell.
Say.
Open.
Words together.
"--'m"

Panic.
Scary.
Awkward.
Can't do it.
"Nevermind."

Time

Sometimes it washes over me like an ocean, when I'm not quite expecting it.
"You're alive."
And then the worries crawl in like bugs...
amidoingitrightshitwhydidntiomgwhatifinevershitshitshitimnotgoodenoughandimgonnafailitsinevitable

Makes for a good song, though.