There’s this cliché about writers and how they’re so broken and have such nostalgia for a life that never existed. I think that there isn’t a statement more accurate than this. I can’t help it if I pertain to the clique of people who sit down and write about dreams with people they’ve met and thoughts they could never say aloud.
I wonder, if melancholy can be cured by the simple act of finding comfort in the sound of someone’s words. Its scary to not know, and perhaps that is how melancholy creeps up on one.
I feel like a child, in the sense that I exude this innocent aroma in which I long for kind acts and admire simplicity. Its strange meeting people and having them see this very side of you. They may wonder why or even admire it, but you hold it all in and there’s things you don’t say only think. You begin to retain all your secret desires. You don’t know why and you wonder, why you don’t allow yourself to get close to anyone. I tend to run from things I don’t understand. Seeking this truth that may never arrive and living in doubt that happiness will be by my side. Then something happens and this disbelief vanishes.
The truth is, I’m not scared with you. I’m scared when I’m not with you. I feel safe and feeling safe is such hard feeling to attain. Feeling loved is perhaps the best feeling in the world. It’s really cheesy and maybe that’s why there’s a particular holiday that celebrates this emotion, but I have become ill to this epidemic and I’m completely okay with it. Strange? Indeed, I’ve always mustered a certain dislike for such an idea. A common case for people who believe that independence comes from being alone. When In reality, Independence is a state of mind not a state of relationship status. This newfound acceptance I have reached has led me to believe that I don’t need to compromise anything. That being in complete sync with someone does not mean the relentless thing I once thought. Rather, a calming phase in which everything seems in its very place. I want to grow with you and not age wise, but as people. I cant really describe it with any other word but happy. Its simple you make me happy. Together we’re happy and nothing else matters. I’m happy when you kiss me on red lights, and when we lay down and stare into space. Being with someone doesn’t take your individuality; you are an individual who chooses to share all that makes you special with another individual.