When I was little, and I fell and got a scab, my mom always told me not to pick at it. She said that if I picked at my scabs, they could scar, and I'd have to look at that scar every day for a long time, or maybe forever. Or even worse, my scabs could get infected and I could get sick.

My mother never told me the same thing applies to people.

When you push people, when you force situations and conversations and relationships, or even when you delve into aspects of people so deep you know them from the inside out, it's dangerous. Those people can become those scars on your memories. Those ordinary things you think about every day. What you think of when you yawn, or a Sunday in December, or what Friday afternoons mean to you. That song that plays every where, that you know every word to because of him, or how baking brownies gives you flashbacks to someone else's kitchen. 

These are scars. Scars on your memories of people and times before when you pushed and you picked at them.

And maybe it's worse, maybe they're the infection. Those people that make you think that you are better than everyone else, that hold you to such a high esteem your ego inflates and you become a pompous version of who you were. Worse yet are the people that make you feel less than whole, like you are a broken piece of yourself. Those times when you feel like if you're not good enough for them, you're not good enough for anyone. The people that affect you and infect you, that leave those scabs.

So put some neosporin and a fresh bandaid on, and let it be.

pollywantacracker.

OH MY YOU HATE CARROTS TOO?

THIS MEANS WE ARE SOULMATES LET'S GO.

I like that you secretly hold my hand during class

I like that a lot. 

I feel so dumb thinking about you all the time when I know you're not thinking about me at all.

Someday, I'll make a movie. Not the romantic comedies where they accidentally have to end up together, they will not be forced to switch bodies or got married in vegas or have to raise a child together. Not the dramas about how a girl falls in love with a vampire or a wolf, no different backgrounds driving them apart. Instead it'll be about a crush. The purest and base of love. The delicate and most honest of all love. That has not been harmed by fights and love affairs. The crushes that leave you broken hearted even when the other person doesn't do anything. The crushes that you grow up convinced are just based on hormones. The two people that could possibly be an amazing couple but never had the chance. The crushes you were to scared to admit to even like. The crushes that could have been. and I'll credit this site and every single one of you, I swear. 

I saw her and just knew.

Don't allow your wounds to transform you into someone you are not.

When I get on this site all I can do is sit and read. I read about people's heartbreak, long lost loves, and recently realized crushes. I read about how great someone I'll never know is and how someone else feels so strongly about them. I read about the love everyone searches for and only a few can say they have found.

Sometimes, they make me smile. They make me think how wonderful it would be to still be with the guy I'm in love with. To still be able to smile without forcing it. It makes me look at how great someone is to someone else. And I wonder if anybody looks at me like that. If anybody looks at me and thinks "she's broken. she needs someone to stop and tell her it's all going to be alright. I wonder who broke her" but I so very much doubt it. 

Sometimes, these stories make me laugh. I see how someone looks at someone else, goofy, nerdy, meatheady as they might be, and they talk about how wonderful that person is underneath all the stereotypes they've been labelled with. Talking about love and how it's patient and kind and a wonderfully beautiful thing. And that makes me think, too. About all the little things I had with him, and how we'd joke around and just sit and laugh about anything. Love's just a funny thing.

Sometimes they make cry. I read about someone being left behind and not knowing what to do. I read about people wanting so desparately to talk to someone they love. I read about someone losing love and not seeming to be able to be happy. And then I think how it's my fault I'm alone and I can't have him anymore.

But, all in all, what can you do with something so beautiful? Something so wonderful. Something so truly rare that we can't even recognize when we have it and let it float away, leaving us broken and confused and alone.

This is extremely long, and maybe you took some time to read it. I hope it makes you smile or laugh or cry with emotions that must be felt. I hope it makes you feel stronger. I hope you realize how you deserve love and how you can't just sit back and wait for it, you have to work harder for it than anything else in this world. I hope you know you're beautiful or handsome, that the person you're on this site writing about deserves you even more than you deserve them, and that everything will end up just fine.

Someone loves you, maybe the person you write about, or maybe the person you're so afraid to admit you need, but still someone who deserves the amount of attention they give you. But still, love all the same.

I learned to swim when I was four, but still I drowned in your eyes today.

For once, I'm not in love with anyone.

I'm taking this time to love me.