Midnights make me miss you

I write, crying in my bedroom at one am, all alone

I know that he left to make the hurting stop,

but what I don't know is how the pain was never worth our love to him

It was to me.

I would've stayed forever,

because I was always comfortable with him,

even if it hurt.

And I know he doesn't think about me anymore,

but the memories of him,

of us,

still haunt me.

He haunts me when I'm happy,

surrounded by people I love.

And he haunts me when I'm all alone,

crying, missing you,

when I'm alone and spiraling,

when it's midnight again.

(Based on Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift, not exactly my favorite song, but one I've been feeling lately)

I had seen you, of course, before we really got to know each other

But now that I have truly seen you,

All of your scars, your hurts, your pain,

But also your love, your trust, your passion,

I wish I could go back to before we knew each other,

And take some time to really notice you.

I realize that I took some things for granted;

Your caring eyes,

Your warm smile.

I just want it back.

I wish we could undo what we did,

go back to being friends,

so that I'd at least have you in my life,

rather than being complete strangers

Who happen to have a history as lovers.

Or maybe I just want to understand

how you could run back to her so easily.

You told me when we started talking that she manipulated you,

tried to control you,

and never trusted your word.

I swore I'd be her opposite,

and I would rather die than break that promise.

I kept my word,

loved you,

trusted you,

but all that got me was hurt.

You leave. I cry. You smile.

Old yearbooks. I see your face.

Walking by your house. He's there.

You are my everything.

You make everyday brighter,

and give my soul a home to long for.

I love the days when we talk constantly,

and I dread the days when either you or I are too busy.

But even if I am too busy,

I always find a way to talk to you, even if I risk getting into trouble to do so.

I love you, and all of our conversations and inside jokes.

I love your laugh, your smile, you ring, even your dirty work jeans.

I love all of you, and I hope you never doubt that,

or the fact that I always want to be with you, to love you and to hold you.

I think you're my trouvaille, the luckiest thing that's ever happened to me.

I didn't go searching for our love to happen, but now you're the only one I see.

I really truly believe that God put you in my life for a reason,

and sometimes it feels like it was to make up for all the hurt I've been through in other seasons.

But whatever the reason, I'm so glad you're mine now.

I can't imagine a world where you're not around.

You're the five leaf clover, the accidental chess win, the five dollar bill on the empty sidewalk.

You're always there for me, and I'll be honest, I'm still kind of in shock.

I've never been with anyone that makes me feel like I won the lottery more,

but I've also never fully believed that someone loved me before.

I love you so much that this word immediately made me inhale,

because the first thing I thought I thought about was you when I learned the word trouvaille.

If the me that I was five years ago could see me now, she would be amazed.

She would realize that all the feelings she felt inside weren't just a phase.

She would look at me and smile, so proud of the woman that we've become,

and she would feel confident that she would someday find the one.

Or rather, the ones. Because there's more than one person that's helped us along this road.

Who showed us the way when we didn't know which way to go.

She would be happy that she found those people, and proud of herself for not pushing them away.

Because at the time, that seemed like the only way to protect herself, not knowing that they'd still be around, there for her everyday.

If little thirteen year old me would have known all the joy that would come even from the darkest times of her life,

she'd wake up everyday and smile,

ans she'd laugh a little harder, hold on to friends a little tighter, and she would love herself a little more.

She'd be able to sleep at night knowing that the people she loves aren't all like the sister who left her, that they aren't going to just walk out the door.

She would be happy that we're finally opening up to someone we love, that I'm letting him in.

And she would laugh about the fact that we always joke about who wins.

She would look at our life and think about the bad in all of the things she sees,

But then she'd look at me, and she'd be proud that I'm no longer the girl I used to be.

i've been wishing all these years

that i could be the homecoming queen-

pretty, perfect,

angelic, affluent

i want to be everything that she is

but what if she doesn't?

what if she longs for the day

when she can finally be herself

stop hiding all her feelings

in her broken home where nobody cares

what if all she wants is some real friends?

people who understand her,

who would be proud of her when she's at her highest,

but also during her lows?

maybe she just wants to have lows.

wants to feel human,

like the weight of the world has been lifted off her shoulders.

like she can breathe,

take off her tight dresses and high heels

and just relax.

what of she wants all the pressure

of eyes constantly being on her

to go away?

maybe she wants to reject all those guys that like who she is on the surface,

and find someone to give her heart to.

maybe she wants love.

love from her parents,

who don't even love each other anymore.

love from her friends

instead of just being together for popularity reasons.

love from the world

because she's herself, not because she's the skinniest, or the prettiest.

but mostly,

love from herself.

maybe she just desperately wants to love herself,

instead of feeling fake,

used, idolized, wanted.

maybe she just wants to be.

to live, to feel, and be free.

and here i am, wanting the life she so desperately wants to get rid of, to escape.

but even though i don't know her,

i love her.

i love the fact she puts on a brave face

even when it hurts,

when she doesn't want to.

she is stronger than all of us.

We laugh, and go quiet.

I want to tell you all of the things I've been holding back.

Like how he hurt me

and enjoyed it.

He told me it was normal, the things he did to me.

It's not,

and when I finally realized it,

it had gone too far for it not to affect me.

So now every time you lean in close,

I see him.

I don't want to,

and I adjust-tell myself you're not him.

But it hurts that he's the first thing that comes to mind

when you're my everything.

And I want to tell you

about the friend that I lost.

Clearly, you already know I lost someone.

But I never told you the details-

the reasons I feel guilty,

the circumstances.

The one who messed with me-

trying to make the trauma I experienced

nothing but a sick joke.

And I want to tell you how that same guy-

the one who joked in the time of my deepest pain-

told me he wanted me to be his forever.

His little pet of a housewife-

no working, no supporting myself-

just making babies and waiting on him.

As if I'd ever settle for that life.

And most of all,

I want to tell you about the boy who had my heart

for seven months.

The one who got me to say I love you

less than two months in.

The only one I've ever claimed to feel that deeply about.

I want to tell you all this and more,

but I stay silent.

And I wait for you to say something,

as I fall deeper into your big brown eyes.

Watching all my past lives flash before my own.

You were gone the second I turned my back.

They always say loving is hard,

that the code can be hard to crack.

But they don’t know about the card-

The one where I told you I love you for the first time,

or the walks we took in the fresh spring air of the schoolyard.

And they don’t know that I’d spend a lifetime

trying to find someone to love the same way I loved you.

They don’t know about your last crime.

They don’t know about the things you would do-

like when you ignored me and ran into her arms.

They’ll never know about how my love for you grew

into hate and panic and alarms.

Whenever you’re around,

I have to try to forget that all your charms

were never meant to last year-round.

You were never going to stay,

You were waiting for the sound

that would let you know you could walk away.

She gladly provided,

and when you left, my world turned gray.

But maybe I was misguided,

and we weren’t meant to be star-crossed lovers,

So all that was left for us was one-sided.

in a world where everyone is hurtful toward each other,

i have been blessed with a best friend who is never.

she is what i would call a broken fixer;

she has issues of her own, but still has time and energy to put into everyone else's,

while ignoring her own.

if she though for one second that she was stopping someone from being happy,

she would play dead on the spot, backing off for others' sake.

i've seen her put her whole life on hold to be there for someone.

she was for me.

she helped me grieve, and live,

after losing someone so close to me.

she showed me what it means to love, and to have faith,

and to never doubt myself or my abilities.

she solves everyone's problems,

and never expects anything in return.

when she's done helping one person,

it's onto the next,

leaving a little bit of her heart and soul in every life she touches.

she believes she is broken,

but she is strong; stronger than anyone she helps,

because she does it all, and still manages to love everybody.

she believes she is broken,

but really she is a fixer.