so listen,

yes, you were right. i shouldn't believe in what i do. what god. what life. what happiness. what love. wasn't i the strong cynic standing tall in pools of foolish ideology and sarcasm wondering what the hell the big fuss was.

oh and, by the way, when i ask a question, you always say no.

-

so listen,

maybe one day i'll forget about hurt, and then i'll enter that place you know you've always wanted to go to. to run where only your fictional characters run, to where mine stay, to where mine stay, trapped in time and 12042 words. maybe i'll write happy endings and never get published, maybe you'll sit next to me and share a skinny latte at starbucks because that's all we have left.

maybe the caffeine will bring us through maybes and through the periods in time where we had blocks, between ourselves and inspiration and ourselves.

-

so listen,

we're 14, to the best of my knowledge, and we haven't stopped yet. we're flying through time like theories and relativity and theories of relativity. we're boarding bullets and soaring into rib cages, playing the harp on heartstrings. we're wishing to swim through ocean horizons and the places where we want to heal the most. we're wondering if walking on crutches is worth telling jokes no one laughs at. we're painting ourselves as stick creatures with pens and on dashboards and thinking that, perhaps, we are not alone.

-

so listen,

darling, i'm never sure of myself, so you've got to be sure.
darling, i'm scared of loneliness, so tell me you'll always be here.
darling, i don't want to capitalise my writing, so try not to remind me about grammar.
darling, i'm sick and tired of everyone simpering about never knowing a writer's soul, so when you say "i know", be bold.
darling, when all else fails, i don't want to chicken out of telling you how i feel, so, please, go fail chinese and every other of your 14 (or a billion) subjects.
darling, before i find that i can hide, get me the spotlight and get a seat and get ready,

because here i go.

-

so listen: