Har tappar kraft och luft, förlorat allt mitt förnuft
If I ever push you away, I don't really mean to.
When I tell you I don't 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 don't know what to say first.
I get immaturely jealous of anyone who gets to see you on a daily basis.
I miss you really easily.
But I also like that we can be apart 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 have two hands and I have one heart.
