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Text
Somebody Cares
The thing is, somebody cares.
I know your best friend seems really busy all the time and is shit at texting but she still loves you and she talked to you more than she talked to anyone else and you’re the only breath of calm she has on this planet.
The boy in your science class loves seeing what music you’re listening to on your headphones - he has the same taste and wishes he had the nerve to ask you about it.
Your english teacher loves the insight you have on your papers. Somebody cares.
The person who lives down the street from you notices when you are sick because they don’t see you stomping your way to the school bus - it’s how they know it’s time to get their breakfast ready.
Somebody is looking for you at the party, even if they don’t know they’re really looking for- but when you don’t show up, some part of them is disappointed.
Somebody is looking for you in the library, in the spot where you eat lunch, in front of that one step you always seem to trip on.
I know your parents are a complicated mess and there’s drama between your friends and your love life is sort of shaped like a constant question and everybody seems all caught up in their own lives and their own happiness and nobody really notices: but somebody always does.
Every face in your dreams is someone you have met, and that means that you are in a million’s stranger’s heads. They see you when they go to bed. And somebody cares.
Somebody still thinks about you even though you were just a person with a nice outfit or good eyeliner or a great smile or because you were having one of those moments that are so charmingly human in nature or because they regret not asking if you needed help when you fell or because they wonder what you were thinking about or drawing or writing or just because you’re alive and that makes you fascinating. Somebody cares.
When you were on break from work and saw a dog hanging his head out of the car and suddenly broke into a sole: there was a girl in the back of that car, and I was her, and I still think about you, and I hope you get more chances to smile like that.
And there is you, sitting here reading this, and by some small extension, meeting me, and I am telling you, I care. Somebody always does. I promise. I promise. You are loved.
The saddest thing I have found about the response to this is that number of people who said “I don’t believe this” and it makes me sick because two years ago I would have said the same thing but trust me okay somebody does care and if your brain doesn’t let you think that’s true, tell it this: you have cared about plenty of people who you will never know. You let them cut you in line or gave them your last dollar or complimented their clothes or laughed quietly at their joke. And there are seven billion people who, like you, care deeply and terribly about other human beings. That furious sadness that rises in you at the thought of anyone else hurting: it rises in us too. And I live what you have been through. I’m sad too, and that make us kin in some small way.
I want you to be happy. I know what burden you are carrying. I want you to believe me. It might take some time. The person who cares might have to be yourself. But trust me when I say: at least one person cares, because I do.
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I never really understood how you were ready to leave everything behind, to leave the people who cared so much about you. I almost told you that maybe instead of running from your problems, you should face them for a change. But the day before I gathered enough courage to tell you, we got in an argument. You stopped talking to me for days, then those days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into months. Years later I still wonder how you’re doing.
I wish I said something (via u-n-f-e-i-g-n-e-d)
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Fireworks are going off in my brain. All the words and thoughts colliding into each other, not quite making sense.
(via u-n-f-e-i-g-n-e-d)
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There’s a line you never get to cross, at least as long as you’re alive. The edge of your body is your only home and you’re trapped underneath your skin. But I long the feeling of opening up, pouring myself out and letting the world in. So every night I take that thin layer of flesh that desperately tries to contain my insides and erase it.
(via u-n-f-e-i-g-n-e-d)
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A part of me
People have a habit of leaving me. I seem to ruin everything I touch and I am sorry. The people who leave are often those who said they’d always stay. The memories of those people and their words replay in my head. I’ve seen how easily replaceable I am and that scares me. I swore I wouldn’t fall in love again. I swore I wouldn’t get close to anyone again, so when they leave it won’t hurt as much. Then I fell for you. I fell for you in a way I’ve never fallen for anyone before. The thing about falling for you was I knew it was happening and yet I just let it. I didn’t even hesitate, i didn’t flinch. I was confident in that you would always catch me. I was crazy to expect that. I should have learned not to trust anyone else to catch me when I fall. And now I’ve lost people that I thought would always be there. I took the moments with these people for granted and now I realise how much I’ve lost. Now I replay our memories in my head, just to try and hold on to what we once had. Truth is though, the memories are killing me and every time I think of you a part of me hurts. A part of me still needs you, a part of me still aches for you. A part of me will never let you go. That part of me will always remember you, everything about you. The aching might stop but you will always be there. You will always be an unforgettable part of me.
-Me
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“ Am I the only one I know, Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat? Shadows will scream that I’m alone.”
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u're - the best anesthetic
my mind
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