(Because I found this in one of my notebooks, and liked it enough to tidy up and post. Weird existential/sorta sappy train-of-thought stuff, ahoy!)
For some reason, I feel like I’ve been bled dry of words.
I don’t know why I can’t reach them. I think it might just be because you’re indescribable. Words trickle off you like rain down glass and you are beautiful in all the ways that I am not, honestly. I can’t think of how to describe you any more without repeat repeat repeating all the things I’ve already said – I guess all I can say is that I love you and I hope that’s enough.
I just – I don’t know where the words are any more. I used to have them like jars of fireflies lining the walls of my mind and somewhere along the line they disappeared like birds fleeing a gunshot, and if the person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger maybe I need to stop dying for people and start pushing them out of the way and living for us both.
I think the difference between you and all the others is that you would rather I lived for you than died for you and maybe that’s why the future doesn’t look so dark when I think about you in it. The future’s always looked dark to me – I think about it and it’s terrifying just seeing nothing. But with you? It still doesn’t look real or solid. It still looks like walking into a long, dark tunnel – but now you’re there with me, smiling and holding out your hand and saying “it’ll be okay”, and somehow, that makes it so much better.