I’m sure that there will come a time where you regret kissing me that warm night in the summer because you didn’t know, you kissed a writer in the dark.

Now I’ve locked those moments inside of my heart and when the sun sinks down low enough, my finger tips begin to bleed as I type out our story.

I’ll find way to be without you, babe.

You’ve consumed every part of me. My thoughts are no longer my own, it’s an endless loop of stories of your smile because, after all, you’re my muse.

I love you now, I’ll love you then, and even when you’re gone, I’ll love you still.

In my darkest hour, I stumble all around the town just looking for a glimpse of you. I’ll see you in everyone’s faces and they’ll call the cops on me.

I’ll love you until my breathing stops because all I ever did was exist for you. I’m my mother’s child, after all. Chasing a broken dream of a fairy tale.

And in that darkest hour, I’ll stumble onto a secret power and I will find a way to be without you, babe. When you see me next there will be a smile and you can tell your friends that I’ve changed.

Now I love it here, living and breathing on my own, since I stopped needing you. I’m a writer in the dark, who only needed to see the light.

Writer In The Dark by Lorde

I’ve come to terms with the fact that multiple versions of me exist, and that some of these, no longer exist. The boxes inside of my closet remind me of who I was at various points in time and I’ll keep those pieces of me, even if they are no longer alive. Because I am a lot more than I think I am.

I’m a fighter, coming home with bruises on my knuckles and cut up cheeks with a victorious smile and a suspension slip in my right hand. Only now, I fight for better reasons. I fight myself every day to stay alive.

I’m an artist covered in paint, wearing ratty old clothes and attempting to find a new space on my crowded wall for a beautiful piece. Now, I admire art in museums and speak of the color schemes.

I’m an althete, weighed down in metals and trophies of accomplishments from soccer tournaments and school sports team patches. Now, I kick the ball once a week if I’m lucky and instead of chasing a ball, I’m chasing my dreams.

I’m a reader with endless possibilities of escapes into deep literature and an evergrowing library stocked with literary classics. Now, dust collects on them and when I have time, I’ll brush it off.

I am collectively all of these things and none at all. Because these pieces, these small portions of who I was, got me to who I am today. I’ll never know if the now version of me will be the last, but I’ll keep on stacking the boxes up until I’m full.