Love is the taste of honey, dancing to music, driving with the windows down, laughing until you cry, crying until you laugh, the realization that you don’t know anything, the realization that you want to. Love is effort, love is painful, love is art, love is perfect, love is everything.

An account I found on Instagram

I’ve always thought that rain

was the most beautiful thing nature had to offer

I find comfort in crying

while it’s raining because it feels as if nature is

crying with me

it feels nice to know someone else

felt my pain.

We swim around in big holes filled with water purely for fun.

When we get sad, dew drops form in our eyes and we physically try to drain ourselves of that sadness.

When we sleep we watch little movies, made by ourselves play out in our heads.

We smile at strangers so that they know we are full of love.

We like to look at dying rocks in the sky and hope they’re looking back at us.

Our bodies are meant to fit each other’s: our hands intertwine perfectly and our heads rest effortlessly in the crook of someone else’s neck.

We purposely stab ink into our skin so that our bodies can carry artwork forever.

We fall in love with different assortments of sounds and vibrations because they make us feel less lonely.

We can tell how someone is feeling just by observing the curves of their mouth or the look in their eyes.

When we’re happy or amused we make our own unique noise and often can’t control it.

Our cheeks get red when flustered, like the warmth inside us is dying to seep out.

We stain our fingernails with pigment because we like how the colors look on our hands.

We feel so deeply we often describe the sadness as our heart literally breaking.

We find joy in random things like moving on shoes with wheels attached to them.

We can’t help but wince when we see someone else’s bruise or scar because we are such compassionate beings.

We talk to babies in high voices as if to protect their bright perceptions of the world.

We never lose awe of things we see everyday, like the stars in the night sky or the way the suns red and yellows seep into the horizon when it starts to set.

Some people dedicate years and years of their life to learning how to save others.

We dedicate gentle moments of silence to tragedy because we recognize our own words are destined to fall short.

We let ourselves fall in love despite knowing it could destroy and break us.

Poets and artists scribble their emotions out onto paper as though to empty themselves of it.

We wave our hands excitedly as a way to greet people.

We show parts of who we are by decorating ourselves with different pieces of clothing or putting dye in our hair.

We hold those we love tightly, as if trying to mend their broken pieces together.

For a long time

I wanted to be 17

such a magical number

a woman but not really

confusing just as it is comforting

to be blanketed with protection

I know is going to be lifted soon

I close my eyes and I am back

to the age where I longed to be this age

I take a long look at the final stage of my teenage surroundings

that are still covered with the delusions

I can be anything I want to be

I applaud the little girl

who waited for so long

I can’t help but wonder

if the sweet simplicity

youth can only give

is what i’ll always be chasing after.

Do you ever wonder

why you look so pretty

after you cry?

It’s always been strange to me

because crying is a person’s most vulnerable form.

No one to reach out to

and no one to fall back on but themselves.

They are alone and their only companion is the steady stream of tears.

Holy water running down from the eyes onto the face

while thoughts of them not being enough.

But somehow after it brightens their eyes

and pinches their nose and cheeks

with a natural blush

and makes them beautiful.

Flowers do need water to grow,

maybe we are growing.

Maybe it’s just the type of person I am .

maybe I’m supposed to help others.

Maybe if I wipe your tears,

you’ll wipe mine?

Of course not.

Because you will always be someone,

who relies on others.

Relies on me.

And me being someone who can hardly rely on myself.

Someone who can barely drag themselves out of bed in the morning.

Me sitting here and telling you,

get out of bed, I promise it will get better.

Wouldn’t be truthful of me.