The coffee shop was busy that morning.
And I was fumbling around, picking out postcards and
ripping up napkins that were
filled with words about the night
when I let your lips taste mine.
Ever since you’ve left, I’ve been searching for the inspiration while pulling out the stitching on book
bindings and reading terrible secrets
scribbled over city benches. Yet my words seem to be repetitive,
and my thoughts always promise that they will lead me back to you.
I think that I had a crush on your mind, and the way your lips tripped over your words when you were nervous.
But even if you stayed a bit longer,
you were reckless and I was damaged.
And while tracing the creases underneath the bedsheets where we almost fell in love,
You would have left
I try to remember our last kiss.
It wasn’t at the end and it wasn’t where I wanted it.
It was just like every other kiss, in a familiar place like a rerun of my favorite tv show.
But that last kiss much like many prior to it was not the way it should have been.
It was cold and empty, desolate of passion and wanting.
If we had known it would be our last would you have still kissed me?
With one kiss I would have told you a thousand things.
It would say how much I’ll miss you and thank you for everything that you were to me.
It would beg you not to go.
And with one kiss I would have poured out the last of my love and left it there on your lips.
But it wasn’t.
It was simple and innocent.
Unknowing of the future and how lucky it was to be the last of many.
And every day I miss your dark lips wishing I could have whispered goodbye.
I know I talk crap on being a twentysomething but I’m only half-kidding. In actuality, there’s no age I’d rather be. (Besides maybe seven years old because they don’t do anything besides eat ice cream and poop themselves. That sounds like an ideal life to be completely honest.)
Being in your twenties is all about discovering which things hurt you and what makes you feel good. You go in blindly, practically pricking yourself with a dull blade, and then you walk out with tougher skin. One day you’ll stop pricking yourself altogether. Maybe. I don’t know. How would I? I’m just a twentysomething, remember?
This is what your twenties are for — to feel and see as much as you can, to take advantage of not being tied down to anything and anyone and to go balls to the wall with everything that you do. You’re a raw nerve. You hate getting upset over little things, about being constantly unraveled by ignored text messages, parents, grades, and friends, but you have to remember something: you don’t know yourself entirely yet. Before the age of 20, you were mostly under your parents care, a reflection of what was going on around you. You didn’t have the option to make your own choices. You were merely living the life someone set out for you. Being in your twenties allows you to start carving out the life you want for yourself. Everything is on your terms now which seems daunting but is actually liberating. For the first time in your life you’re the boss.
It’s important to talk about why your twenties are great because it seems like we spend so much of our time wanting to be somewhere else other than where we are. Think about it. Why the hell are we in such a hurry to live some boring grown up adult life that we saw at a Crate & Barrel? Because once we do get there, we’re stuck for a long time. The novelty’s going to wear off, we’re going to get married and have babies, and everything will be amazing but don’t think for a second that you won’t be nostalgic for this time. Don’t think for a second that you’re not going to miss those nights you spent putting on your make up, changing five million times, drinking wine, smoking cigarettes out your apartment window, and going to some silly party, a party that feels like all the others you’ve been to but still has the right to feel special. You will miss all of this. This is a luxury. It’s going to leave us eventually so you better freaking enjoy it. You better enjoy every lame ass party, every awkward kiss, every 5 AM hangover, every drug experience, every crappy apartment, because one day it will all be gone and you’ll just be left with the pictures and the bruises and nothing else. Youth is fucking magic. Don’t you get it? Look at your skin! Touch it. Look at your smooth legs and stomach. Grab it. When you’re older, you’ll want all of this again so bad. You’ll possibly spend so much money to get some semblance of it back. Now it’s yours for free.
We’re not stuck. Even if it feels like we are, it’s not true. We’re the opposite of stuck. As twentysomethings, we’re constantly moving — apartments, relationship, cities, jobs. Anything is possible. People are ready for you. They want to hear what you have to say. They look at you and are curious about what words are going to come out of your mouth. You’re the new generation. What do you have to say? Don’t bite your tongue. One day you’ll be pushed aside for a younger “fresher” perspective so you better get it out now. Make a mark. Make a stain. Make something.
I want to remember the fear, I want to remember the promise, I want to remember the nights I wanted to curl up in a ball, I want to remember the people I’m not supposed to remember, I want to remember not knowing myself, I want to remember the moment I started to feel safe and like this life I’m leading is really mine. I’m going to be scared, I’m going to bruise my knees and not know how they got there, I’m going to try to fruitlessly forge a connection with someone who won’t ever get it, I’m going to lose the person that means the most to me and find my way back to them. I’m going to be a twentysomething because that’s what I am and all I know how to be. And you should too. You should love every single moment of this hot mess of a decade. Chances are you’ll miss it before you even get to say “I’m 30.”
Will not wait for Valentine’s Day to make things romantic. He would never leave you when you need him the most. he should always be right there for you when you’re in need of someone to talk to. He wouldn’t lie to you, keep things from you, or be disloyal. He’ll make you feel like the only girl in the world who matters, and he should replace your depression with happiness. He will love you for you you are at all times. He should put you before his pride, and tell you how beautiful he thinks you are in spite of what his friends say. He would love your heart as well as your body. And he should trust you no matter how difficult a situation is. Those are all the ingredients of a real man. Those are all the traits all guys should possess.
In nature, people’s souls, art, and words. You can choose to see beauty everywhere, or you can choose to remain untouched. True beauty is not perfect. Beauty is found in happiness. Seeing a smile on a person’s face after they’ve had to deal with too much pain, hearing a best friends laughter, or seeing a scrap of blue sky, or a gap in the clouds on a miserable day. Beauty isn’t just found in looks; songs are beautiful, emotions are beautiful. Not just faces in magazines. Being pretty, cute, stunning, or good-looking, are not the only ways of measuring true beauty. True beauty is love. Family. Friends. Beauty is the quality that gives us intense pleasure in what we see, or sense. Beauty comes from within your heart and your soul, not just from your appearance. Beauty shouldn’t be who looks best, or how close to perfection you are. Beauty should bring happiness and happiness itself is beautiful.
I want to feel you curl up beside me, your fingers scratching my ribs while i play with your hair. I want to hold your hand in the car and steal a kiss at a stop light. I want to make fun of terrible movies together and watch you dress up in all of my clothes. I want you to tell me about your family and your favorite childhood memories. I want to draw hearts on your arm while you hum to the songs on the radio. I want to stare into your eyes but not say a word. I want to laugh at strangers in public. I want you to take bites of my food. I want to get drunk off wine alone at home together. I want to meet your crazy friends and cook you breakfast every morning. I want to share an umbrella when it’s raining and have dance parties in the kitchen.
I want to fall in love with you. Every day. Every moment. Every heartbeat and every breath. Always.