Sometimes I take for granted the task of writing things down; the wonders it does for those who have so many words and feelings written on the heart. Almost like graffiti that I can stand to look at and appreciate, “Oh, that’s actually nice.”
It’s a shame I’ve given it a break.
Especially when I’m down in the dumpster of sadness.
This guy whom I somehow thought up all my life, has been living all his life, and has now taken my heart, and my whole life too.
That movie, those songs, things not relatable all — as if they’re meant to — lead back to you. I really can’t get away. These things can run into me if they want to — in fact, I encourage it. I want to be touched by you some how. There’s quite a ridiculous distance between. My love goes a ridiculous distance, anyway.