ive always had  intense, all encompassing relationships. my therapist says that’s because i feel empty inside, and other people make me feel whole and loved and okay. she says i need to start making myself feel that way. the problem is, i dont know how.


I’ve been through several lonely periods in my life; periods where i’ve had no one to talk to. in fact, I’m going through one right now. I’ve lost just about everyone. but if you’re reading this (or writing this), it gets better!! you will find people. remember that. this lonely time is a window of opportunity for other people to present themelves to you. so go out there, smile and laugh, and youll find someone. i know it. 

a best friend

a best friend,

to me,

laughs at your stupid jokes.

they stroke your hair

when you’re down.

a best friend

has a nickname for you

that no one else can call you.

they call every night

and text

every morning.

a best friend

will die for you.

a best friend

always says she loves you

no matter what.

a real best friend

never leaves.

i guess

you were never

my best friend.

what is love to you?

to me, love is a lot of things. it’s standing outside in the rain and not caring if you get wet, or if you get cold, cause you know you can go home and they’ll hold you even past when you get warm. love is spending ours on the phone, staying up into the wee hours of the night. not because you have insomnia, not because you’re restless, but because nothing beats talking to the one you love. .love is being warmed by the sun and love is butterflies in your stomach. love is like a warm bath, a bath that never gets cold, a bath that you never want to step out of. it’s the smile that spreads across your cheeks when you hear their name. it’s being content with just their presence, craving their touch and craving their voice. it’s forgetting your own name cause theirs is engraved in your mind. it’s that feeling you get when you think that someone knows all your sins and all your flaws and chooses to love you anyway. love is the fear that one day you’ll have to live without them, and it’s also trusting them enough to know you won’t. it’s listening to your favorite song and thinking of them, the lyrics melting like warm candle wax into your mind. it’s a hot shower, cleansing you of every bad moment you’ve ever endured. love is not being able to focus, or think or move or breathe because all that matters is them. love is wanting to hold their hand and kiss their lips and hug them, breathing in their scent and never wanting to let go. but love is also pain. cause eventually, you will have to let go.

you’re not in love

if hearing their voice doesn’t cause a smile to spread across your cheeks like honey, you’re not in love. if you don’t want to be in their arms when a panic attack strikes, wreaking havoc on your sanity, you’re not in love. if you’re relieved when they go to sleep, you’re not in love. if you don’t love to play with their hair and kiss their lips, you’re not in love. if the thought of holding their hand forever  makes you recoil, you’re not in love. if your heart doesn’t leap out of your chest and fly around the room with wings made of gold when they call, you’re not in love. if everytime they send a sweet text and you wish it came from another, you’re not in love. if you don’t want to fly away with them to Madrid, or Thailand or Brazil, you’re not in love. if you’re not infatuated with their scent and voice alone, you’re not in love. if your favorite song comes on and you’re not reminded of them, you’re not in love. if you only call when it’s raining out, you’re not in love. if words and texts and laughs are forced, you’re not in love. if your heart doesnt sprint around your body when they call you “baby girl”, you’re not in love. if they can’t cheer you up when you’re in your lowest of lows, you’re not in love. if they ask you to be their girlfriend and you dont jump around the room, you’re not in love. if you’re sick of pretending, you’re not in love. i want to be in love again.


the word passport implies travel. when i think of travel, I think of freedom. boarding a plane, handing your passport to the bright eyed, smiley flight attendant, and going far far away and never looking back. never looking back, that is, until you have to go back home. but when im finally free, finally able to hand my passport to that bright eyed atendant, it’s going to be a one way ticket. im not going to look back as i fly away, leaving everything behind and starting anew.  via Daily Prompt: Passport