“He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.”
I don’t want you to know that I hate chicken but secretly love chicken nuggets. I don’t want you to know that I am a sum of contradictions and hallucinations, and that I write stories in my head that never stand the chance to meet ink or paper.
I don’t want you to know that I carry the weight of wanting to be something extraordinary, but am too fearful to move forward.
I don’t want you to know that I play music but never consider myself a musician. I don’t want you to know that I stopped playing music because it reminded me of being with him; that my words were once only meant for his ears. And no, I don’t want that.
I don’t want you to know that I stay up late at night thinking about you, or that I have to actively stop myself from thinking too much about the way you make me feel. I don’t want you to know that you scare me, because I don’t want to fall back into the hole of self loathing and dark thoughts. I know you have the ability to do that to me, and no, I really don’t want that.
I don’t want to feel unworthy of your time, because I barely think I am worthy of anyone else’s either. I don’t want to feel guilty for laughing, because my mind has tricked me into thinking laugher is as fleeting as the people that come and go in my life. I don’t want to over analysis every word, or live in a constant state of self depreciation. But I am, and I have, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to explain why I am this way, or why there is a dark cloud that always looms over my thoughts. I don’t want to tell you that that they have the ability to taint every colorful memory, even that time we kissed; I can already feel the color draining from that perfect moment, and I don’t want that.
But most of all, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to be left with my thoughts alone. I don’t want to sit in my room at 2am and cry over my illness and madness. I don’t want to hate myself for never telling you how beautiful your laugh is. I don’t want to have missed the chance of holding your steady hand, and I sure as hell don’t want anyone to do that with you. Because I want you, and every ounce of you