from nobody

lalalalalalaaa

Dear Somebody,

The sea yearns to touch the moon even for one fifth of a second, despite knowing it is impossible. That is me. That is how I am when I think of you.

This was supposed to be a couple of months kind of thing. I’d like you, I’d get a kick out of it, I’d have something to be all smiley, giggly, and girly about. But at some point, it stopped being about me, and started being about you. Maybe it always was about you, and I just didn’t know. Maybe, my heart fell in love with yours before my mind could catch up with it. Maybe that’s why I tried liking other boys but my eyes always came back to you. And maybe, in a few months, they’ll fly to someone else. But I don’t care about all that, because right now all I see is you. All I feel is you. All I hear is you. All I want is you.

Your smile, that crinkle by your eyes, your stupid jokes, your sharp mind, your kind heart. I want to know you. I want to stand by you. I want you to trust me with your ups and downs, highs and lows. I want you to want a safe place and think of me, because you can always trust I’ll be there. I want to be your person, because, as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve already picked you as mine. We may not talk much, and I may not know you very well, but I want to. I don’t need to, nothing will happen to me if I don’t, it’s not some deep, poetic, meaningful tale with a tragic ending if it doesn’t end in romance. It’s a teenage girl and her need to stop bottling up all that she’s feeling. Her need to stop holding back her care, her smiles, her nagging, herself. I would love to be your shelter in the storm, your blank page waiting to be scribbled on with thought and care and love in a room full of scratched up sheets. If you’ll have me.

Sydney Carton said to Lucy Manette “You have been the last dream of my soul.” Will Herondale said to Tessa Gray “You have not been the last dream of my soul. You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming.” So, here I am, flipping the script, but continuing the tale, “You are the first dream that I dreamt from my soul. The others were from my head, perhaps my heart, but none came from a place as deep, personal, or pure as the soul.”

Love,

Nobody.