That would be very much appreciated, thanks.
Look at my desk. There’s a note you left me on a day we were fighting and I have not even remotely touched it because it reminds me of how positive you are during our darkest times.
Look at my phone. My lock screen is us and my home screen is you. You are my best friend on Snapchat. My most searched on Instagram. You are 80% of my social media, 90% of my photos, 95% of my song inspiration these days, and 100% of my mind.
Look at my skin. You have always told me you loved my scars, as you trace your fingers down the parts of my body I always deemed ugly. Your eyes glow with a stare both intrigued and admiring. You have become the seemingly endless marks I have accumulated. Every morning I wake up without you, I look on my right arm to the scars you left me, to remind me that you are always a part of me.
Look at my eyes. They are neither amazing nor different. They are common, predictable, and in the majority. But with your unmistakably honest words of esteem, they brim with a confidence that overflows the cup I always labeled as half empty.
You are the yin to my yang. The most opposite yet the most alike to me. My partner in crime, my Bonnie to my Clyde, my catcher in the rye. These days the most excited I could possibly get is to ask if I can go see you.
Somewhere along the way, a line was mistranslated, or a quote was taken out of context, and you started to see me as this vapid commodity that could not stimulate your growth anymore. Not a day goes by when I’m in the car with you that I don’t strive to either make you engaged in conversation or roaring with laughter. Not a day goes by that I don’t still try to flirt with you as if you aren’t already mine.
These days I don’t talk about my past like I miss it. I talk about it as a lesson, and with you as my redeeming quality, and end goal to my list of tragedies.
So why is it that I feel like I’m good enough for you mentally, emotionally, and lately, physically.
Why do I feel like my unique qualities are now becoming my typical flaws.
Why do I feel you push every time I pull.
Why do I feel like your head is in another place, while my eyes are all on you.Look at my name. If that itself doesn’t give you butterflies anymore, then what else is there left for me to do.
sorry mom you’ve hit ask limit