Until the very end.

I don't know where I'm going, but hopefully I'll get there someday.

I want you to fall in love in the right way. I don’t want you to be looking for love on the lips of intoxicated strangers, and in the mouth of someone who has been lonely for too long. I want to lose you to someone who is going to be worth your patience, and not just someone who is looking for a way to pass the time by.

Your body is an hourglass that I never want to see run-out of moments. Your body is proof that some things are never meant to make sense. I look at your skin and I can see your autobiography written in scars and in burns on the most sensitive limbs of your body.

When I lose you, I hope I lose you to someone who is able to understand the difference between sympathy and sincerity. I hope that they learn that just because you say sorry doesn’t mean that things will go back to normal, or that things will somehow fix themselves. I hope that when I lose you to someone else they will never have to make you question whether or not their love for you is true.

You are better than the waiting game. You are better than clocks. Better than 3 a.m. drunk text messages with no reply, and even better than the taste of regret on your tongue at 1 p.m. in the afternoon. You shouldn’t have gotten drunk last night in a bar surrounded by strangers who only want pieces of you that you will never miss. You need to know that you are better than that. You need to know that one-night stands only last for a few hours, and that by the morning you will feel lonely all-over again. You are better than that, than this.

I hope that when I lose you, it’s to someone who can look at your scars and see progress. I want to lose you to someone that is able to make a map by using the creases in your skin, and who only wants to travel to the foreign parts of your body. I want to lose you to someone like this because I want to know that when you leave my arms, you will retreat into someone else’s who is able patch up the pain without even using their hands.

"I’m only preparing," - Colleen Brown (via mostlyfiction)

(via mostlyfiction)