the words he made me write...

I once compared him to the moonlight. The way it never fails to amuse me. There's always a sense of 'you can lean on me and tell me your secrets' to it. And I don't think I would be able to survive so long with all my secrets bottled up inside this heart of mine, most of which belongs to him from the very beginning... The moonlight was there to tell me that I don't have to keep it all in, that I can break down and be naïve and fall in love with all the wrong people and still, that won't change the way I love, that won't make me weak.

I think darkness is overrated. We give it too much attention and it doesn't have to be this way. I was a completely different person when he came into my life. He helped me a lot and he doesn't even know it. There were a lot of moments where I knew this spark between us is meant to turn into fire and burn everything to the ground and I can see it still. Sometimes too bright that I am afraid of all the things we would do, sometimes like a flame that will disappear any second. I think I gave away too much of me to him and that's not right because I know it won't ever be enough.

It is never consistent with him. I could look at him, for hours, for days and still miss him the second he is out of my sight. But where is this taking me? Am I digging this grave for myself by making him my muse? I have loved him to the point of destruction. I have loved him to the point where every time I look at the night illuminating every little secret of mine, I can see every star that holds wishes I made for him to be happy, for him to know that in his darkest times, I will be there. Always.

And sometimes I can feel my heart begging for his eyes on me, whispering, praying to all the gods but then, sometimes I hate every little thing that makes him different from everyone else… I wish I could keep hating him just so I could get over his addicting smile and honey-brown eyes, but that's too much to ask and not possible at all. I am in too deep now. Getting over him will be like burying a part of myself six feet under…

It isn't fair to be the only one who falls when the one you fell for never noticed your absence.

There's no hope in this story, I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel nor can I feel the warmth, it's too cold… Truth be told, this hopelessness might be the end of me, but the words he made me write will live forever, welcomed in the world of forbidden love, never alone.