if i ever push you away, i dont really mean to. when i tell you i dont want to talk about it i do, i am just looking for the right words. give me a minute, and if i can tell you; i will. i try to be a struggling mix of real and perfect at the same time. at the moment, i am working on the ratio. when i get really quiet sometimes, it is because i have too much to say. i have thought of too many thing to tell you all at once and i dont know what to say first. i get immaturely jealous of anyone who gets to see you on daily basis. but i also like that we can be a p a r t and we are both okay. space is good, too. i love the way we love some of the same things. and i love how we love entirely different things. my head is a complicated pile of thoughts, and fears, and cravings, and dreams, and this tangled up nostalgia for the past and, somehow, the future. i am flawed and i am human and i am broken and i am trying. and i am one person and i am two hands and i am one and i love you. hea