If you want her, show it, go out and chase her. Don’t take no for an answer because if you really want her just go after her. Continuously text her first if you want to talk because you know she doesn’t start conversations but loves talking to you. Make the effort to see her if you can and show her you care for her. Send them cute and cringy text messages, what’s the worse that can happen? Tell her how you feel because you never know she could feel the same but is too scared to say it.
It was the moment, the fucking moment, I swear to god when I looked into your eyes and you said I could trust you and that you’d love me forever. That was the one that left me crying on the bathroom floor every damn night after you left.
Above all, I learned that I was absolutely fascinated by love, and all of its curious accomplishments- its outstanding ability to be both as big as the world and as small as a smile; its willingness to both break and mend a heart.
But oh my God, what if one day you wake up when you’re thirty years old and you have a house and kids and are tied down to a job and haven’t gotten out, and I mean really gotten out- seen the world, since you were seventeen years old and you and your friends decided to sneak out of the house and go on a midnight drive? What if that day you wake up and realize all the times you missed out on life because you were scared or didn’t want to put yourself out there, because you were afraid of rejection, hurt, or feeling like your world would fall in if anything went wrong? Well guess what, that’s a part of life. The unknown, the anxiousness, the fear surrounding all the horrifying what ifs.
And if you never take those chances, I promise you, you’ll be thirty years old before you know it, staring at your reflection in the mirror and wondering why the hell you couldn’t have just let go for one minute and let yourself live, because you would do anything for moments like that again.