inkedwritingx

[inkedwritingx]

As Noah passes me in the hallway, I can't help but think if he can hear how loudly I am thinking of him. When he stops to greet the readheaded girl with a hug, I can't help but think that if I were a character from a book, If he could only read me and not see me, I would be his favourite. If he could only read me and not see me, perhaps I would not be suffocating with things to tell him. Perhaps he would finally notice how his broken pieces fit perfectly in mine and how they can create something beautiful, together. Perhaps we would actually work. But even if Noah has the ability to read me like an open book, I am sure that he will end up leaving me on the shelf. Because I am not a character from a book, and he cannot not see me. It is impossible not to see me.

He (art).

[inkedwritingx]

3 A.M.

3 A.M. Hope is what keeps you alive, hope is what kills you. It's the first deep conversation you've had at 3 A.M that made you want more and believe that he did,too. It's that one thing he wasn't there to tell you in person but instead over a text message at 3 A.M, that made you see potential and chemistry. It's that one time he told you he liked your favourite book that made you believe in soul-mates. It's all the romanticised reasons you had ready for his absence in the daylight when you needed him the most. It's the first time he poured his heart out in your hands to catch. The first time you saw stories of his broken childhood home and all the ways people ruined him, slipping through the spaces between your fingers that were supposed to be intertwined with ones that belonged to a hand you dreamt of holding at sunset, only to let it go at sunrise. It's the 3 A.M hours. The hours when he tells you that his stories can never be misplaced in your ears. That split second of pure heroism you lived when he told you that he had never met someone who listened, cared and understood as much. It's the 3 A.M hours that made you fall for the signs and the maybes. It's that one random phone call that made you think you were always on his minds. 3 A.M phone calls set fire to that fragile heart of yours, and it was like all the fantasies your best friend told you to bury when she saw you crying over the one that got away, were revived before your eyes. All those fairy tales of 'nice girl meets bad guy and bad guy turns into nice guy' no longer felt so far away, so unrealistic. He's here. It's 3 A.M and he's here. And for once, a guy is handing you pieces of a heart that is not your own. For once, you are not a sob out story, you are not the victim. For once, you are the saviour, dancing on that fine line between love and infatuation, to the music of all the scenarios and thoughts in your head. Somebody should have told you, 3 A.M is the worst time to love someone. Somebody should have told you, Your fairy tale didn't end when you decided to open your eyes to a half made bed. It ended long before that, Ever since you lost yourself in your own dreams. Somebody should have told you to stop meeting him at 3 A.M in dreams written under pillows, and hoping for an extended conversation in a world that is void of harsh realities, high expectations, and pieces of everything you wished he were. A world where he is not always looking for the next best thing, and you are not always touching his fingertips, looking for echoes of someone else's skin. Somebody should had told you, you are not the first to get lost in his ocean blue eyes, and you won't be the last to drown in the waves. Somebody should have told you, things are always better when you dream with your eyes closed instead of wide open. Somebody should have told you, you can never make a love out of 3 A.M confessions. Trust me, I've tried.

#love

[inkedwritingx]

"I have seen love die way too many times"