sing it loud and clear

You're in the front seat, waiting for the others to arrive at the station, and I'm in the back, when this song comes on next on the cd. And then we both start singing to the song - a little off pitch during the chorus, but in earnest nonetheless. I tap to the beat on the window, and I see your head nodding along in the car mirror.

It's like we're speaking in a language that people no longer remember except for us, and we're agreeing on every single thing we're talking about.

You tell me about the girl you're in love with (it hurts, doesn't it?), how you're scared to death that you won't get to see or experience everything the world has to offer (I know, there is that bothersome thing called time), and that people will eventually forget who you are - the colour of your eyes, the shapes of the lines on your palms (I'm scared too, but I'll remember you, I promise).

I tell you about my love of scented markers and how I attempted to eat the tips off them (that's actually kind of gross), about my fear of being alone (you never are), and of getting people to understand who I am (you're a little weird but I still dig you).

The song stops, and we stop too. Everyone gets back into the car, and then I go back to sleep, head bumping against the unwashed car window as we drive onward.

I wonder if you had heard me just as well as I heard you

(I love you).

does this matter

Am I more, less, or just as complete a person when I'm with you?

light

When I listen to him sing, eyes closed and the music turned on loud from my speakers, my heart feels so big, enormous even, that I'm afraid it won't fit inside of me anymore.

We'll be connected by a secret light, starlight.

thank you

I've done a lot this past year, whether it was tackling something out of my comfort zone and being one of the few girls in a karate class, travelling to places I've only read about, getting over my fear of heights and rockclimbing, being in immense pain from training for a half marathon, or shaking and shrieking from seeing one of my favourite boy bands perform live.

I feel a great sense of pride in the things I've accomplished this year. But what I'm most happy about, and most thankful for, are the people in my life. All of those things I did with, worked on, or received support from the people I loved.

So thank you for making me the person that I am. Thank you for listening to me, for laughing with me, for dancing with me, for fighting with and for me, and for taking care of me. Most of all thank you for loving me.

I love you.

Whether whispering secrets or shouting til my voice is hoarse
Of all the friends I've made and all the lost debates
There's none that I would trade for anything

you know this already

You tell me you're afraid of falling in love, that you'll never be able to let someone in completely - and so you won't.

But you're wrong. I know this because I can hear the incredible joy and frustration and warmth in your voice when you talk to her, and when you talk to me about her from the colour of her eyes to the next big decision she has to make in her life. I can feel how your body tenses up when you look at her, and how your arms fit around her body to make sure that it fits with yours. I can see the whole heart you've given her already.

So be honest. Be courageous. And love her utterly, fully, and completely with your entire heart.

this

I don't think about this often, but when I do, I'm struck again about the enormity of it - how the two of us share something that I will think about for the rest of my life. You were there. You held my hand as we sat side by side on the long bus ride, and when they called my name. You were there when it was over too, and told me that it would be okay. But you were probably just as terrified as I was.

We don't know each other anymore. I don't remember your phone number, your birthday, or what your voice sounds like even. I don't know what makes you tick, what you like reading in bed when you can't sleep, or what brand of coffee gets you up in the morning fastest. But we do share this, and it'll be the only thing that will ever connect us.

at least

My bare feet rest on your cool hardwood floors, left cheek flush against the bedsheets, hair a mess. You're leaning back in your chair, chin resting on your hand and glasses pushed back in your thick hair. We're listening to her sing about lonely people in the city, and you explain to me how sad this song makes you feel, eyes bright and fingers fluttering over your face. I turn to lie on my back and listen to your voice go up and down and up again. The both of you talk about humid summer nights that stick to your skin, and our untapped ability to fall in love. I close my eyes and take solace in the fact that at least we have each other in our own city.

giving up

What if it's too difficult? What if I cry?
What if we don't have words to fill the empty spaces anymore?

What if we lose our spark?
What if we lose sight of each other?

What if you're not who I you think are?
What if I'm not who you think I am?

What if you don't make the jump? (and I do?)
What if you jump first?

What if I never let you in?

I'm giving all of them up for you.

I don't want to say this out loud yet, because it's too big, too scary to think about. But I have a good feeling about this.

dancing

we thought we'd never dance again
so scared of second chances
but now there's something happening
you make me want to dance!
you make me want to move!
you make me want to make a new dance up

and you know all the moves
because it's our dance

{Make a new dance up - Hey Ocean!}

Let's go dancing!