I Wrote This for You

by Iain S. Thomas

I know the world is crazy. I know love is not always the way it’s meant to be. I know sometimes, things hurt. But I also know that we’ll get through this. That our hearts will arrive on the other side, in one piece. That everything is beautiful, if we give it the chance to be.

Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness.

There is magic even here, in gridlock, in loneliness, in too much work, in late nights gone on too long,

I have pretended to go mad in order to tell you the things I need to.

And then my soul saw you and it kind of went “Oh there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Of course it’s complicated. If it wasn’t, I probably wouldn’t be interested in you.

That suddenly, these things can exist and you’re not quite sure how they existed without you knowing about them before.

And in the end, I will break the stars and resurrect the sun.

You took all my words when all I wanted to do was say them.

And everyone, somewhere, is someone, if we only give them a chance.

Go to work. Eat. Dream. Try to sleep. Think of you. Count the stars. Wake up. Think of you.

Friday’s always wasted and she and Saturday hold each other tightly until their delirium fades.

But Sunday, Sunday knows she’s the end. But she closes her eyes, and she pretends with all the strength in her tiny heart that really, she’s the dawn.

I know you’re busy doing all the things you always planned to do but remember, today is also the day that you kiss me.

It may have just been a moment to you, but it changed every single one that followed for me.

And it felt like two people meeting each other, after an entire lifetime of not meeting each other.

All my dreams are beautiful. But none as beautiful as you. You are the reason I return here each morning.

There are a million important things to do. But none as important as lying here next to you.

I love you. I love your eyes. I love your smell. I love your hair. I love your laugh. I love your skin. I love everything inside you. And I’ll try to make all the parts that I find, happy. Because you make me happy. So much.

I am the truth without someone to hear it. I am a feeling without someone to feel it. This is who I am. A mess without you. Something beautiful with you.

When the tide goes out for the last time, I swear, we will have nothing left to lose.

And tangled lives you may lead but into each other, never apart, till you cannot distinguish between being and being together.

Every time they cut you, I bleed.

When I look up at night, all the constellations look like you.

All I ask is that you let me spend forever feeling this way, before you take me.

I know I’m only borrowing it. I know I have to give Summer back to you. Just as you, have to give Winter, back to me.

The little things you forget, kill me.

I know you’re not here, I can see it in your eyes when we talk. Where ever you are, come back soon.

And we clutch that picture to our hearts because we expect each other to always be the people in that picture. But people change. People aren’t pictures. And you can either take a new picture or throw the old one away.

The world will carry on without you and me when we’re gone. Let it carry on without us, today.

I know there was something before you. I just can’t remember what it was.

Because you listen. But you do not hear.

And they walk past you everyday, one million stories, each waiting to be told. Waiting for you to ask. Because you live. But very few, love.

And as I went to hell, the devil asked me if it was worth it. I said yes. Yes it was.

This is my skin and it’s thick. This is not your skin. Yet you are still under it.

All the space without you in it, is empty.

I just need you to be able to tell people I was here, I felt, I lived and I loved as much as I could, while I could. And that the person that I loved, was you.

You’re ok. Breathe. Just breathe. Open your eyes. Come back. It’s ok. It’s over now. You’re ok. Wake up. Please wake up. Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to me. I love you so fucking much. Come back.

The least you could do, is uncross your heart. Unhope to die.

The heart is a muscle like any other and the best exercise you can do for it is called picking yourself up off the floor.

It counts when it’s hard to believe in yourself, when it looks like the world’s going to end and you’ve still got a long way to go. That’s when it counts. That’s when it matters the most.

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s not knowing what’s wrong with someone and all you want to do is make them feel better.

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s having to acknowledge that my feelings are my own, no one else’s. And, my responsibility. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s forgetting that and taking the way I feel out on the world.

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s going to the same job day-after-day for the same pay.

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s not you. It’s me.

This isn’t torture. Torture happens in small, dark rooms in countries with names you struggle to spell. This is just mildly unpleasant.

Truly great people were once called weird so that today, you aren’t called anything.

You constantly look for a sign and when it’s given to you and you don’t like the answer, you call it a coincidence. There are no coincidences.

Time never said “Best you enjoy yourself now because we’re going somewhere soon.” But that’s what he meant.

Oh shut up. Every time it rains, it stops raining. Every time you hurt, you heal. After darkness, there is always light and you get reminded of this every morning but still you choose to believe that the night will last forever. Nothing lasts forever. Not the good or the bad. So you might as well smile while you’re here.