Uploading…​Your relationship does not define you. Do not ever convince yourself that you have no identity without the other.

I don’t want you talking to him, I don’t care if he’s your childhood friend. He’s a guy. 

They cannot tell you to refrain from talking to people of a gender you are capable of being attracted to. If you don’t want me to fall for anyone else, prove your worth. Keep me, hold me close. Don’t create boundaries for me and enforce them. If you’re straight, you are allowed to be friends with guys/girls. If you’re bi, they can’t possibly expect you to be friendless.

Your relationship does not define you.

I will talk to whom I wish to. I will wear what I wish to. I am still the same person I was before you came along, and I will continue to do what makes me confident and what makes me happy. If you have a problem with an aspect of my personality that is not harmful to anyone, leave. Do not make me feel ashamed of my sexuality. It is a part of who I am. Do not make me feel ashamed of my mental health. It has made me who I am. Everything in my past has shaped me, whether good or bad. I will share it if I want to. If I don’t, wait. Do not force me to pour out to you the parts of my life that still sting, when you clearly don’t know how to handle me. 

Your relationship does not define you.

I am not less beautiful without you, less loving without you, less warm without you. Maybe less happier, but I will not be a mess when you disappear. I will not break down simply because I haven’t spoken to you in two days, or because you fail to reply in time. I am independent, I exist without you

I am independent, I exist without you

You don’t define me, this relationship does not define me. You are but an addition to my story, a note, quickly scribbled in a corner, slowly fading away

Your relationship does not define you. 

dim ray of hope

if you ever feel

that the world

is slowly running out of innocence 

remember that

my three year old cousin

repeatedly insists

that dolphins are in fact


and calls every white and yellow object

but knows that he’ll get

anything he asks for

if he yells long enough.​


I’m sorry that I don’t smile at home anymore, I’m sorry that I’m not my usual bubbly self. I’m sorry for being such a downer, always sitting on my bed doing god knows what. I’m sorry for not spending much time with you, for not confiding in you the way I used to.

It’s not all your fault, really. I miss being the person I was, the happy-go-lucky fool, the dreamer, the crazy monkey.

I’m sorry that the only thing we ever do anymore is fight, but I’m tired of being babied all the time. I’m not always going to be a child. I’m not your doll. You can’t deck me up in ribbons and wrap me up with a bow and expect me to be happy. I think I know what I want to wear, I think I know how much I should eat so I don’t faint in class, please. I’ve been dancing for eleven years, I know what’s comfortable to dance in and what’s going to hurt my legs. 

You’ve never been through half the stuff I have, you were born a model. Guys fell at your feet and you kicked them away, don’t teach me about heartbreak, don’t teach me how to fall in love with my body. 

Please stop yelling all the time. I’m sorry I’m not perfect, but I’m all you’ll get. And if things stay the way they are right now, I doubt you’ll have me very long either. 


“So what do you look for in a partner?”

I think of the time you asked me the same question

I look for you. In everyone I feel myself falling for. I search for your smile, for traces of your laughter. I search for the sound of your voice, and the feel of your skin against mine. 
I look for your shirts in closets, your songs on their playlists. I’m constantly on the watch for something they’ll do that’ll remind me of you. 

I look for you.

And when I can’t find you, I let myself fall, knowing my heart won’t be broken by the same person once more.​


these dreams

are much like



too high above me. 

fly past you

leaving droplets

on your eyelashes;

and when you’re

close enough

to reach out, 

they slip

right through

your fingers

wrong number

I finally found the courage to call you. You’d given me a new number a while ago, I’d copied it down in a hurry. 

I suddenly felt terribly lonely; i needed someone, anyone, to talk to. 

So i called you, calling upon every last ounce of remorse i had, and repeating, over and over, that i wouldnt talk about myself, i wouldnt suffocate you with this mess in my head.

I couldnt push you any farther away from me than you already were. 

So I’d ask you how you were, ask you how you’d been. Ask if you liked that new album. I’d tell you about that funny thing that happened last week, but I wouldn’t tell you how it reminded me of you, no, I couldn’t force you to bring me back into your life, I couldn’t suffocate you like that.

I’d talk to you for a while, long enough to distract me, but not long enough to send me into a breakdown again. 

So I dialled your number. 
The number you have dialled does not exist.  

in worlds of our own

​are we capable of living our own dreams without neglecting the other? 

will you be the first to applaud at every performance of mine? will you come and hug me backstage, no matter how many times i messed up? will you learn to appreciate all that i love, or will you simply tolerate my fancies as a way to get me to love you? 

will you read my poetry and understand what i’m trying to say? will you find parts of me in every verse i write, or will you throw away these pieces of paper and simply tell me that it’s ’deep’?

and i will try my best to love what you do, but i can’t make a promise that i can’t keep, because in reality, we’re just daydreaming of a future together, living in worlds of our own. 

rip glod 

I miss you. 

A lot. And even though you’re technically still here, its not the same, at all. I can’t tell you when your favorite song plays on the radio, because it probably isn’t you’re favorite anymore. A gift I bought for you is still on my desk, waiting for a day that might never come. Whenever I laugh, I think of you, and the way you’d cheer me up from a thousand miles away. There are more photos of you on my phone then there are of me, and there’s a picture of Blackbear that you sent to me. Pictures of the matching tattoos we planned to get someday, and pictures of the most random things. A mirror, a doodle, an empty glass, things that were then insignificant, but now remind me of what I managed to lose.

I knew i needed  you, but I never showed

But I wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old

Just say you won’t let go 

Just say you won’t let go 

I still cry when our songs play. The ones we sang in the balcony at three a.m. , before you moved. The ones we’d send each other after our fights. We always found our way back, always. Maybe not this time. But I love you. And I miss you. A lot. 

I wanna stay with you even when we’re ghosts, 

’cos you were always there for me when I needed you most.

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