Late nights, climbing flights, running laps through my mind. Trying hard to distinguish what is yours, what is mine. Mind over heart I know, but my heart tells my mind not to let this love go. So I lie here distressed, all this pain in my chest. Almost as if you pulled my heart from behind my left breast. This is killing me softly, like a Lauryn Hill song. I don’t know if I can do this. It feels so wrong.

Drunk texts, no regrets, at least not yet… until the next morning when you realize you meant every word that was said. A drunken mind speaks a sober heart, it’s true. Emotions overflowing all thanks to 80 proof. With every shot you take, you become more sentimental. Bottles of beer expose the thoughts in your mental. Drunken confessions you can never take back don’t account for the sober bravery that you lack.

Here’s to the nights: sober, high, or drunk… and to every single person that we’ve ever loved. Past, present, future. It all ends up being relative. I don’t ask for much, just for all of you to let me live.