To the greatest person on this somewhat significant planet,
I've somehow fallen into this emotional trap that makes me want you for myself. In all your glory, hatred and remorse. I seem to have become fond of your devilish manner. Perhaps it was our similarities, such as our love for the same hot beverages and Marvel knowledge. Or perhaps it was the raging hormonal lust that we share for a presence of dominance in the bedroom.
I could tell you about how exceptionally perfect you are but that would be a lie, and one that you would most likely suspect of. But I've never really been fond of "perfect", when used as a standard, and I think that's why I like you. Being such a wall flower myself, I've grown accompanied to the downs and the ups of oddness and whatnot. I like your honesty. Honesty of intoxicated mistakes and stories of heart strings that have been pulled to the point of snapping.
I also love your basic dreams of merely being alive and playing music. I like that you see me as a close friend. I like that there is a soft spot that exists within you that you don't let people know about, and that you don't judge me by my own mistakes because you understand that nobody is perfect.
You text and call me when I'm drunk, when I laugh too much and can't walk straight, or even fall into walls. Know that in those moments you are all I am thinking about. You have your own demons, secrets and pain filled past. I could never judge you on that, because pain is a side effect of life and what we do about it is a side effect of pain. You've helped me build up my confidence and self esteem, as well as show me to forget those that shouldn't matter. I just hope I have done the same for you.
If you're ever sad to the point where death seems more promising than life then please come to me, even if I am a shit human being, because you don't deserve the darkness. I'm not saying that you're not allowed to be sad, because everyone has the right to cry and not sleep. But an impending doom isn't something to strive for.
I like that you refer to my complex array of thoughts, feelings and "what if"'s as my "pretty little head". Like it's something indescribable and tormented. I couldn't agree more with you, but you'll have to fight to get inside. When you remind me that we are just friends it's a literal stab in my chest because every time I see you I want to hear each breath get taken in by your tobacco-ached lungs...but then I remember that it is not my place to hold your hand, and it is not my place to love you.
But on that note I'll leave you with an undoubtable mystery, just like you always leave me wanting more.
You...the unsolved inevitable you...
From "Chick" x