3:30 pt 2

Cause maybe we weren’t meant to burn. I find myself in the same bed with the same two hands holding me for warmth. They didnt shield me from this lingering feeling, you’re still on my mind. I’m not heartbroken, sad nor devistated. I just wish I had the guts to face you and the girl that makes you smile. I couldn’t and it makes me feel so weak. 

my hands were to small to hold you closer


‘being young’

I always thought that ‘being young’ meant selling your own body and drinking wine from the bottle, that appeared to be a fraud. I’d put on my best shirt so that I would be ‘wanted’ and drove home in the middle of the night, those are the memories I had of ‘being reckless’

I was wrong.

The day has passed and I sit here, writing at my desk. My entire body is tired and my eyes can’t really stand the light. I am rich, fulfilled, in possession of more beautiful memories. I realize that ‘being young’ means spending your youth with people your age, people who laugh at the same jokes and who share the same dreams. It is not that we dislike our parents, but we have better things to do then sit at home. Explore. Climb fences. Walk home at night. See another club. Dance a little different. Talk to strangers. Embrace chaos. Admire your friends. Be generous. Share a drink. Love a little more. Point at the stars.

Be young.