I Wrote This For You

You’re just another story I can’t tell anymore.

Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place

All the hardest, coldest people you meet were once as soft as water. And that's the tragedy of living.

And then my soul saw you and it kind of went "Oh there you are. I've been looking for you.

This is why it hurts the way it hurts. You have too many words in your head. There are too many ways to describe the way you feel. You will never have the luxury of a dull ache. You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much.

That’s what it feels like when you touch me. Like millions of tiny universes being born and then dying in the space between your finger and my skin. Sometimes I forget.

When sadness was the sea, you were the one that taught me to swim

You can be in love and you can be in a relationship. But they’re not always the same thing.

I could’ve sworn I was telling the truth when I told you I didn’t miss you.

And every day, the world will drag you by the hand, yelling "This is important! And this is important! And this is important! You need to worry about this! And this! And this!" And each day, it's up to you, to yank your hand back, put it on your heart and say "No. This is what's important.

After you're gone, people will forget your name, no matter how important it was, and your face, no matter how pretty it was, and what you said, no matter how clever any of it sounded. The things you've done will crumble and fade and the places you once loved, will change and be given new names. You are only here for one moment and it lasts exactly one lifetime.

You had this expression on your face, like you weren’t quite sure you were supposed to be on Earth.

This isn't me missing you. This is me missing the me I used to be.

Because I might not always have you but I'll have the feeling of you for the rest of my life

Oh shut up. Every time it rains, it stops raining. Every time you hurt, you heal. After darkness, there is always light and you get reminded of this every morning but still you choose to believe that the night will last forever. Nothing lasts forever. Not the good or the bad. So you might as well smile while you're here.

Love, at every opportunity you are given. Be less afraid. Embrace each day (none are promised). Cry when you need to, it'll make you feel better. You were put on this planet to feel every feeling you could, do that. Everything works out in the end, I promise.

The little things you forget, kill me.

When I sit near you, my hands suddenly become alien things and I don't know where to put them or what they usually do, like this is the first time I've ever had hands and maybe they go in my pockets and maybe they don't.

If there's one thing I hate, it's not knowing what's wrong with someone and all you want to do is make them feel better.

Your salary is not love and your word is not love. Your clothes are not love and holding hands is not love. Sex is not love and a kiss is not love. Long letters are not love and a text is not love. Flowers are not love and a box of chocolates is not love. Sunsets are not love and photographs are not love. The stars are not love and a beach under the moonlight is not love. The smell of someone else on your pillow is not love and the feeling of their skin touching your skin is not love. Heart-shaped candy is not love and an overseas holiday is not love. The truth is not love and winning an argument is not love. Warm coffee isn't love and cheap cards bought from stores are not love. Tears are not love and laughter is not love. A head on a shoulder is not love and messages written at the front of books given as gifts are not love. Apathy is not love and numbness is not love. A pain in your chest is not love and clenching your fist is not love. Rain is not love. Only you. Only you, are love.

There are only so many of us born at a time and we are thrown into the world to find each other, to find the other ones who don't think you're strange, who understand your jokes, your smile, the way you talk. There are only so many of us born at a time and we only have so long to find each other before we die. But we have to try.

I’m not scared of never meeting you. I’m scared of having met you, and let you go.

You are a drop of perfect in an imperfect world. And all I need , is a taste.

We clutch that picture to our hearts because we expect each other to always be the people in that picture. But people change. People aren't pictures. And you can either take a new picture or throw the old one away.

Because we all need to believe in movies, sometimes.

I know you’re just a rag doll now, sewn together with memories that we might have had. I know you’re just the dream inside of a dream And don’t worry, I know I don’t know you, anymore.

You are the best parts of all the songs I love.

Just like you mistook lust for love, you have mistaken with being alone for loneliness. So I'm fine. Thanks for asking.

You taught me how to be alone. And I learned my lesson, in your absence.

I know you’re not here, I can see it in your eyes when we talk. Where ever you are, come back soon

I've written you a hundred messages that I'll never send

Oh, how I wish you wouldn't worry so. There's hope in every breath. But when fear infects the bones, I'm told, the heart is always next.

And you asked why people always expected you to smile in photographs. And I told you it was because they hoped that in the future, there would be something to smile about.

Somewhere, someone knows the words to the songs you sing.

When love begins, it's easy for you to make something out of nothing. When it ends, it's much harder to turn that something back into nothing.

On other planets, they look up and wish upon you. Because on other planets, you live on a star.

I keep wondering, how many people do you need to be, before you can become yourself.

I would find you down the line with broken wings, pick you up, and swear that you would taste the sky again.

If love and beauty were easy to find, they would not exist. Chaos and sadness exist in order for you to find the love and beauty in them. So that love and beauty mean something. It's meant to be hard.

You are the silence between the notes. The white space between the letters. The missing that makes everything else a something.

One day, you realize that there are some people you'll never see again. At least, not in the same way.

Never give up on anything you haven't done absolutely everything to save. Even if what you're saving, kills you.

The things you struggle with today are the things you choose to struggle with. Because you believe that what you want to accomplish, is worth struggling for.

I don't care what other people think. I fell in love with you. Not people.

The human heart is made from the only substance in the universe that can become stronger, after it's been broken.

Because I found the strength to do the things I believe in, and the will to stop doing the things I don't believe in. So I have discovered what it means, to be at peace.

You make me nostalgic for a love that hasn’t even happened yet.

If you've got the time, we can play a game. It’s easy. We just see if I’m the same shape as the space you have inside you. If everything fits, we both win. If it doesn’t, don’t force it. That's how you get splinters in your heart.

The Wasted Words You will forgive me, I hope you don't mind me saying, I just wanted to add, if you've got time and I've said it before and I'll say it again, because you should know, before we go any further, we should put everything on the table because the reality is and the truth is and the fact of the matter is, I shouldn't interrupt but I was wondering and if you know, please tell me, how we manage to say so much, without saying anything at all.

The Angel Of Almost Then I was somewhere else, and it was bright. A voice said "If you'd carried on practicing that song you almost got right, you would've been great. Bigger than the Beatles." It continued "If you'd carried on working on that book you almost finished, it would've changed the lives of many, many people." Then it said "If you'd tried to reach the one you loved just a little bit more, when you almost had them, your life would've been completely different." And I asked "Is this what happens when I die?" And the voice said "Almost.

I have pretended to go mad in order to tell you the things I need to. I call it art. Because art is the word we give to our feelings made public. And art doesn't worry anyone.

And you almost killed me. But I didn't die.

I love you like I love the sea. And I'm okay with drowning.

Being gifted doesn't mean you've been given something. It means, you have something to give.

I can't hear you unless you speak.

Because art is the word we give to our feelings made public. And art doesn't worry anyone.

The Scars You Love There are a million ways to bleed. But you are by far my favourite.

Neither of us can do anything for forever. Because forever passed away, long ago.

The Wall Of Days You will never meet anyone who has done something great who waited for permission to do something great.

You should know that there is something worse than hate and that is unlove. Because hate is anger over something lost, hate is passion, hate is misguided, it’s caring for the wrong things but it is still caring. But unlove, unlove is to unkiss, to unremember, to unhold, to undream, to undo everything that ever was and leave smooth stone behind in its wake. No