I Feel Like I’m Losing You And You Can’t Even See That I’m Scared.

orange, silver, and gold!

Hey there beef mom! Thank you for asking for these, it was fun to write and think about!

Orange: How many projects do you usually have going at once?

I’m really bad with projects, tbh, I start things and get really into them then kind of forget about them. So usually I’ll have about two or three going on a once with one getting done out of the three. 

Silver: Are you comfortable writing in public places?

I actually write my best when other people are around. It’s why I write and post stuff during school. I dunno, something about being around other people makes me feel somewhat creative. When I’m alone you can tell because what I write has a slight lonely undertone to it where everything else flows together better.

Gold: Do your stories usually contain lessons or morals?

The closest thing I have to writing in a moral or lesson to my stories are when I write prose or when I do my little short stories on wattpad. With the short stories there morals are behind the quotes at the bottom of the chapter and are usually about overcoming challenges or stereotypes.

I love the wind bringing me along with it was my feet and legs work together with my arms, turning over at a rate so fast it acts as my own heart beat. Pain that will only last for at least 20 minutes welcomes me in a strong embrace that I will kindly welcome, leaving the door open as long as it will come and go. I work for that pain so I can receive the pride of winning personal battles. Personal records will always come and go, but running will always be my one true love. For it works with my whole body, it tells me that it loves me, giving good days with good runs. Others I will get scolded for even trying to put on spikes that many other great runners have worn before, because my time is not now and will not happen. I must be ready to achieve the level of greatness that my love wants for me. My love makes me a lion, a hunter, but also a gazelle, gracefully adapted to what I know to do. My first love will give me gifts, perseverance and stamina to complete my goals, because he only wants the best for me. But he will also make my days difficult and proud. Giving me reason to continue going ahead. To continue to love him.

Why I run

We may be just friends but I get butterflies in my stomach when you speak in German to me. Even more when you translate what I say from French.

Our back in forth conversations with google translate are the high light of my day

Being happy hurts. It’s one truth of the world no one wishes to speak about. Being happy doesn’t allow for sadness. Being happy doesn’t allow for others to help you. And lord forbid that you actually say that you aren’t ‘happy’.

“But you have a such a good life”

Would you still love me knowing you could never make me happy? Or is that too much to ask for?

Six feet under

Misery is knowing that I'm always going to be your second choice. Because there is always someone better than me.

It's fine since I'm used to it now

“I love you.” The only thing I’m absolutely sure of in this messed up world. And I hope the same doesn’t hold true for you because the light in your eyes is too bright to be dimmed by falling victim to this thing called love.

It has destroyed so many

I love how we lay together in bed. How we end up tangled together, hands folded together almost like we'd fear getting separated. The feeling of your chest rising and falling comforts me more than words can describe. The feeling of your breath on my cheek, neck, or where ever your face may be at 3 am makes me relaxed knowing that you are still with me. I love waking up to see your beautiful face, and I love seeing your beautiful face watching me upon waking up.

My love is for the beauty of us

I thought you weren't coming back, so I gave up hoping you would. I gave up because someone like me doesn't just become friends with someone like you. Someone of your caliber would go to someone much more deserving and not already gone.

Inside the Artist #6

I don't know how to tell you that you're perfect without seeming like I'm some asshole who doesn't know the difference between the book definition and someone who knows what true beauty is. But that's what you are. Perfect. Not the book description, you are the picture of beauty in my mind. You think you're not perfect but you are. And I hope you can understand that this is the truth and that whatever anyone else tells you and if it drags you down, they are wrong. You are perfect.

- because you asked me to describe something indescribable