dear everyone i've ever loved
i'm sitting here on my bed, twenty one pilots pumping through my headphones and a brace around my injured wrist, trying to find the right words to say. i don't think it's possible to arrange twenty-six letters in the exact order to express how much i love You, how much i miss You.
first of all, i need to confess something. i fall in love far too easily. in love with
in love with strangers.
in love with You.
when i look at you, i can almost believe our destinies are woven together.
i’ve never believed in destiny. i’m okay with it, that there’s no such thing as destiny. there are these late-night scribbles in the dark, pin curls pressed against my damp scalp and good music and fairy lights and wet dog noses, but no destiny. isn’t that beautiful? that we were never meant to be
when we were kids, You were the one who packed cheese strings and crackers in your backpack so we could go on an 'adventure' in the woods behind your house. You still email me to this day, even though i don't answer when i lose my mind. i broke the law with You when we circled a round-a-about four times, laughing until our tummies hurt.
You are adventures, phone calls from thousands of kilometres away, hide-and-go-seek, singing songs from the lion king in the car late at night, interventions when i work until i make myself sick.
the sound of
is the gentle strum of a bass
in the back
of my head.
ukuleles and black-and-white movies (i do believe in fairies, i do, i do). yet one more email asking if You're okay because when i said i was purple and silver You made me feel less alone by saying You were too.
i guess You, made of mint ice-cream and sunflowers, are why i have an irrational fear of saying goodbye. (call the number below if you find my missing childhood.) there’s always one more final hug and
the rushing off to catch the bus before i burst into tears, my fingertips gripping the pointy corner of your shoulder so i don’t have to go. tears streaking down my face, thankful for the sunglasses that hide my red-rimmed eyes. it hurts every time. is it bad i hope it hurts You too? saying goodbye is (awful), because when life gave me lemons you clipped your wings so i didn't
my life is nothing to be romanticised. it's not the type of hardcover life to be stacked in enormous piles at the front of the bookstore, promising action, romance, adventure. a book to change your life, one you rave about to your friends. it's the paperback which smells of glue and
a spine falling apart at the seams
that you'd be lucky to find in the 'free' box outside the library. maybe my life isn't extraordinary, but You made it beautiful.