poetrybyam:

Free-writing series: The unknown isn’t scary, it’s hopeful.

poetrybyam:

Free-writing series: The unknown isn’t scary, it’s hopeful.

poetrybyam:

Free-writing series: I want to know who he is when no one’s looking.

poetrybyam:

Free-writing series: I want to know who he is when no one’s looking.

Free-writing series: The unknown isn’t scary, it’s hopeful.

Free-writing series: The unknown isn’t scary, it’s hopeful.

Free-writing series: I want to know who he is when no one’s looking.

Free-writing series: I want to know who he is when no one’s looking.

“One of the worst feelings, it turns out, is the ache of loss for something that is not yet gone.”
— A.M.
“I look at the boy in front of me and he looks away. I ask him if he’s okay and he says yes nervously, and he looks away again. I see his mind racing a mile a minute and I see the conflict in him. He talks with confidence in his beliefs but the longer he talks the more he sounds uncertain. He comes back from bible study and thinks he’s found himself but I can see in his eyes that he’s just as lost and confused as the rest of us. I look at the boy I love and can’t help but to feel bad for him because he’s just a lost boy trying to convince himself otherwise.”
— A.M. (via poetrybyam)
“Some nights I miss you so much it hurts and some nights I forget that you ever existed. And I’m not sure which one is worse.”
— A.M. (via poetrybyam)

I’m so good at forgetting, and sometimes that’s what scares me the most.

(I don’t want to forget about you)

Some nights it hurts so badly that I feel paralyzed in my bed. As if the pain will never go away and I’ll be stuck there forever.
Some nights everything feels wrong for no reason at all.
Those are the nights I miss you the most.

Life is weird. There’s no elegant way to say this that explains it better. Life is really fucking weird, but you’re here so you might as well make the most of it.

oswim