pleasefindthis's Blog: Written On The Side Of The Page , page 12

The Ocean Of Noise

I'm worried that if I suddenly disappeared, no one would know.

Their expectations of me have become a shell and so it doesn't matter whether I'm really here or not, a shell can be empty inside

So if you know that I'm here.

If you can see me.

Here's to you.

The Place The Light Strikes Red

I write down every reason to be afraid on your wrists, and below my eyelids, where the light strikes red.

You might get addicted to someone. 

You might get addicted to being alone.

You might get your heart broken. 

You might have to mend it yourself. 

You might die.

You might live.

Even though it’s dangerous to live.

The Strange Reflections

You'll see. Sometimes, the answer to the question, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Is both, “Seeing them again,” and “Never seeing them ever again.”

The Only Thing Keeping Me Together

You are in these threads of light.

Because I am held together by my weaknesses.

The Echoes In My Skull

After everything, you will discover that loneliness is just not finding yourself, because there’s no one around to find yourself in.

(You will discover: we need someone else to see us, to be able to see ourselves.)

The Quiet Room

One day, they will make a public holiday called The Day Of Saying Things You Did Not Say.

On that day, you will walk into a quiet room and discover someone waiting for you who you have not seen in a long time, and you will be given the chance to say things you did not say during time you knew them.

It will be more popular than Christmas.

The Bodies In My Wake

I am kept awake not only by the people that I hurt, whether on purpose or accidently, I am kept awake by everyone I hurt unknowingly, who might still be hurt.

This is the hardest thing: You can never know how many people you hurt, just by being you.

The Anchors I Found In Others

Remember: You’re never "just holding my hand."

You’re keeping me on Earth.

Don’t let go.

The Problem With What Matters

Things matter even when you think they don't.

They matter when you’re thinking about something else.

Things are important when they’re not obvious, when they’re subtle, like the curve of a lip.

They’re important in the spaces that most of us miss.

Because we don't know what matters until it passes us by.

Until it's too late to grab it, hold it and say,

"I'm sorry, I didn't know this mattered.

I didn't know it was important."

The Dark Cloud Of Hate

You will say that the time for anger is now, that we have not been angry enough, that not being angry enough is the problem, and I understand that you have every right to be angry and I am angry for you.

And yet somehow, you and I must turn the anger into love. We must turn the black cloud of hate into light. We must turn war into peace. We must turn clenched fists into open hands.

We must only perform miracles.