lonlilly

no one knows this, not even myself. no one knows what i'm yearning for, what still roots me in this soil. not a single soul even thinks about what they don't know about me, what i'm thinking, or what i'm desiring. no one knows my urge to write down things like this, or no one understands

warm full good balanced spiritual healthy stable strong

no one realizes that i'm writing every opinion about you. every feeling that i'm repressing about you. no one knows that i have downfalls that i believe about myself. there are things that i could list forever, but what's the use, right? there's no purpose because no one comprehends it. no one cares to reach out their arms to let me write down and scar their veins with my emotions, because that's what i'll do, i promise you. i cannot help it, i cannot help it. 

there's comfort in this, somewhat. there's comfort in knowing that i'm entrusting in you something sacred, and sometimes i'm willing to give it all away. every ounce of my being, i want it to be yours, and i want you to be mine. then there are nights like these where i'm most happy in solace. there's comfort in my phone dying and not having a charger. there's comfort in waking up alone, in drinking coffee alone, in getting ready alone, in falling asleep alone.