I am a wildflower.

May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art – write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.

The sky was the thing I loved the most. In the middle of the night I knew I could always go out on my porch and the starts would be there, shining. The moon would be there, staring back at me, beautiful as ever. Even when the clouds were hovering over my head, I could always count on my night sky, even if I couldn’t see it, I still knew it was there. It was always going to be there.

The sky was the thing I loved the most, then you came along.

You became my night sky, my moon and all of my stars. Even if I couldn’t see you, I always knew you were there, I always knew I could count on you. You shined as bright as the stars and what you made me feel was greater than all of the constellations up above. When you stared back at me, you were far more beautiful than the moon. And I knew that you were always going to be there.

Now, the sky is still one of the things that I love the most, and so are you.
Now, when I talk about you, my words turn into constellations.

I have a problem admitting when I’m hurting. I’m always trying to stay happy and content that when I fail in doing that, I feel like I lost, like I made a mistake. And let me tell you something, there wouldn’t be a rainbow without the rain.

You try your hardest to forget.

Yet he’s all you ever think about.

How can you say you love one person when there are ten thousand people in the world that you would love more if you ever met them? But you’ll never meet them. All right, so we do the best we can. Granted. But we must still realize that love is just the result of a chance encounter.