The normal guy looks my way and walks away while whispering to his friends about how unproportionate I am.
The typical senior takes one look with his egotistical blue glare, my direction, and then laughs his way farther into stupidity.
Your generation wasn't made to endure the pain that I carry in a satchel. I hide the satchel away on my back. It was hidden from you. I didn't want to scare you but you pried at my soul until I had no choice but to empty my pain into your lap. I laid the empty satchel on the floor and hugged your welcoming arms. At that point I was confused. Why hadn't you ran? Why weren't you leaving?
You have asked at what point I knew that I was in love. Well, it was then. When, I told you everything and you sat and listened with an open heart. You stayed with me. You are dealing with the low self-esteem, the selfharm, the eating, the anxiety, and me constantly apologizing.
And for that amount of strength to be within a single being. I find myself often thinking that you are a figment of my imagination. A ghostly figure sent from somewhere to help me through this.
So what. I dont care. As long as I can be with you. As long as I can kiss your fragile porcelain skin to confort you. And as long as I can sit in your lap after long days, when the dark thoughts veiled in melancholy creep so slowly into my mind. As long as you can talk me out of death and tell me that the space I take up in your heart is greater than the last girl. As long as we can do that, I don't care if it's my imagination that I am seeing. Because you have showed me an important concept of life that no-one can take away with there selfish fingers. And that is love. And if I can love a figment, then I love you.
-k♡
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A\N: This turned out pretty well. It's not quite a poem. But, it's okay. How was it?
Xoxo.
