if ever i push you away, i dont really mean to. when i tell you i dont want to talk about it, i do, im jus looking for the right words. give me a minute, and if i can tell you; i will. I try to be a struggling mix of real and perfect at the same time, at the moment, i am working on the ratio. when i get really quiet sometimes, it is because i have too much to say. i have thought of too many things to tell you all at once and i dont know what to say first. i get immaturely jealous of anyone who gets to see you on a daily basis. i miss you really easily, but i also like that we can be a p a r t and we are both okay. space is good, too. i love the way we love some of the same things. and i love how we love entirely different things. my head is a complicated pile of thoughts, and fears, and cravings, and dreams, and this tangled up nostalgia for the past and somehow, the future. i am flawed, and i am human, and i am broken, and i love you.
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