He Has No Idea How Beautiful The

Please May This Not Be A Game. Please May This Not Be A Game. Because If It’s A Game, I Know I’m Going To Lose.

Yes, Time Can Be Buoyed By Wordlessness, But It Needs To Be Anchored In Words.

There Are Times When I Worry That I've Already Lost Myself. That Is, That My Self Is So Inseparable From Being With You That If We Were To Separate, I Would No Longer Be. I Save This Thought For When I Feel The Darkest Discontent. I Never Meant To Depend So Much On Someone Else.

It's Like, You Know How Sometimes You See A Really Sexy Baby? Wait.

Even Though I'm Seventeen, I Guess I Still Thought This Would Always Be True - That There Would Always Be That Lost-and-found, And Not The Lost-and-still-lost That I Am Now Trapped Inside.