Unknown (via zubat)
In love with this.
This terrifies me and makes me happy all at the same time.
One day, she’s going to know. She’ll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, your star sign, and your parents names. She’ll know how old you were when you learnt to ride a bike, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had, and how much you hated going to school. She’ll know your eye colour, your scars, your freckles, your laugh lines and your birth marks. She’ll know your favourite book, movie, candy, food, pair of shoes, colour, and song. She’s going to know why you’re awake at 5am most nights, where you were when you realised you’d lost a good friend, why you picked up the razor and how you managed to put it down before things went too far. She’s going to know your phobias, your dreams, your fears, your wishes, and your worries. She’s going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding, and your problems with your parents. She’ll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions. She’s going to know about your love for mayonnaise, your dream of being famous when you were five, your need to quote any film you know all the way through, and your fear of growing older. She’ll know your bad habits, your mannerisms, your stroppy pout, your facial expressions, and your laugh like it’s her favourite song. The way you chew, drink, walk, sleep, fidget and kiss. She’s going to know that you’ve already picked out wedding flowers, baby names, tiles for the bathroom, bridesmaid dresses, and the colour of your bedroom walls. She’s going to know, get annoyed at and then accept that you leave clothes everywhere, take twenty minutes to order a Starbucks, have to organise your DVD’s alphabetically, and check your horoscope… just incase. She’ll know your McDonald’s order, how many sugars to put in your tea, how many scoops of ice cream you want, and that you need your sandwiches cut into triangles. She’s going to know how you feel without you telling her, that you need a wee from a look on your face, and that you’re crying without shedding tears. She’s going to know all of it. Everything. You, from top to bottom and inside out. From learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. She’s going to know every single thing there is to know, and you know what else? She is still going to love you.
For you, I’d steal the stars.
There’s no place I would rather be than tangled in the sheets with you.
And if you call me at 4 am, too sad to even say hello, I will listen to your silence until you fall asleep. If you need to cry I will not wipe your tears away because you are only human and sometimes tears are as close to laughter as you can get and that’s okay. If you get sleepy I will let you drool on my arm and I won’t laugh at you if you snore too loud. If you need to yell so hard that your voice cracks and your knees fail I will hold you up and yell with you. If you get so angry you punch your hands red I will ice your knuckles and tell you that wounds heal both inside and out, and just like the cold that is harsh and burning, I will always be the warmth to soothe you and make you feel better. I will love you.
Then there is the boy you can never stop thinking about. Whenever you see his name, it trips you up. Even if it’s one that belongs to many others, even if he belongs to someone else.
You know he is a symbol of your weakness, your Kryptonite. How he rushes in like wildfire and burns through everything you worked so hard to build since he last left you in ashes.
To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.