I have always been found searching for something within you, for something more than what I’ve ever found. But you have never been everything I have always wanted; though that has never stopped me from searching, in the hope that you might be, someday.

We all have something to hide, some dark place inside us that we don’t want the world to see. So we pretend everything’s okay, wrapping ourselves in rainbows. And maybe that’s all for the best, because some of these places are darker than others. 

Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think: I’m not going to make it, I just can’t do it today. I’m too tired, too emotional, too worn out, too run down and feel like a complete and utter miserable wreck. But you laugh inside as you drag your sorry self to the kitchen for some coffee; remembering all the times you’ve felt that way and still made it through.

And in the end I may be alone, but at least I have experienced this life. I may be stripped down, naked and broken to the core, but at least I have learned what it is to live. You taught me how to fly, how to fight and how to survive- now let me go, let me choose, let me live.

I could write a million words about the way you say my name, I could turn myself upside down, and do it all again. And whilst there’s meaning behind the words, behind the emotions, behind the movements- the truth is, this goes much deeper than I sometimes care to acknowledge. Hours of my days are filled up with you, not physically, but within my mind, my imagination, my day dreams of adventures we’ve yet to have- together. Occasionally I pause throughout my day and try to remember what it was like before I met you, what I once put in my mind in place of where you now flood me. The only conclusion I come to in the quiet times, when I examine my memories- is that without you, I was thinking of you. I of course, was unaware it was you, but indeed it was you. Thinking of the feelings you would someday help me to experience, understand and embrace. The way you would remind me of myself, when I had somehow lost myself. How passionate you would be, in creativity and in love. I would never have imagined you would find me like this… sitting, waiting, wishing. But to face the music and to face the rhymes- here I am, you found me.

I want a relationship, of course I do. But not just any relationship. I want a genuinely real relationship. You know, the real ones. The ones where you like to talk, to play, to argue, and to fuck. The ones where you can’t stand each other and can’t stand to be apart from one another at the same time. The ones where you each have your own life, but you allow each other to enrich them instead of control them. The ones where you switch off being needy and desperate but generally are equally obsessed. The ones where you feel secure but not bored, where you are just as excited about the conversation you have during dinner as the sex you’ll have afterwards. You’ve seen each other bitchy, whiny, ugly, tired, sick and you still want each other desperately. It’s the ones where you know that neither of you is perfect, but you’re perfect for each other. It’s nice to have a literal idea and desire of reality for once.

Words have the ability, the strength and the bite to pain, wound and scar. They have the power, the drive and the determination to eat away at us until internally, within our spirits, there is nothing left. And although we have each experienced unkind, hurtful and aching words, although we have felt their sting and endured their constant burn, we turn to one another out of anger, jealousy, irritation and upset. We take hands, arms, hearts and minds- and proceed to leave markings, cuts and bruises of all shapes and sizes- knowingly scarring souls for life, or for what is left remaining of it. And as we walk the streets daily, moving on from the words that we’ve spoken as though they have left the wounded untouched and unharmed- we are oblivious to the fact that this alone- is a reminder that we as a generation, have grown cold.