2AM Thoughts

thoughts of an insomniac


3. I think it's a love letter.

Did someone give you a guidebook to life?

Because you always look like you know what you're doing.

Is there a way for you to somehow get a heads up before anything happens?

Because I've never seen a look of surprise cross that pretty face of yours.

Is that annoying?

Calling you pretty.

Because it seems to me like you expect nothing less.

You're waltzing through this dimension, like it's a breeze.

I need you to tell me how. Please.

You're not afraid of the storms that come your way,

because on whirl later, and you're the tornado, heavy and grey.

I want to be you.

But I have no clue,

where to start.

Have that steadiness in my eyes.

You're eyes are always just so...alive.

Maybe it's their colour,

reminds me of summer.

Of the delicate wings of a faerie.

How they always seem to sparkle with spirit.

And how your voice comes off in whisper trails, light and airy.

The combination of your stare and your voice,

it's all enough to leave me feeling illicit.


You have this animation, in the way you laugh,

tilt your head to the side when you're listening to what I have to say,

and let your lips curl upwards into a sideway smile, inviting me to play.

That smile.

It's been awhile,

since I've seen something that good.

It's got its own presence.

Gives of this feeling of acceptance.

Wanders into people's minds, leaving a mark.

Burnt from a spark.

You're spunk and vibrancy,

and what surprises me,

is how okay you are.

You're okay and you're fine.

And you don't care how people gawk at that, when it's clear they're treading a fine line.

The way they stand, with their mouths open,

as they take you all in.

But I guess it's just pure curiosity from deep within.

And yeah, you've got demons,

in your head, constantly screaming,

but you've got them under control.

You are under control.

Your outlook on life is one of a kind.

You are one of a kind.


You tell me I'm a woman who can handle change,

it's not so strange,

that I'm not just an atom floating in space.

Murmuring, soon, I'll be charm and grace.

It's all about self love, you say.

You push my hair behind my ears, and brush my cheek endearingly.

It just adds to this yearning feeling, willing you to stay.

Prioritize yourself,

your hands are comforting on my shoulders,

and you're shaking me gently,

but firmly.

Because you are worthy.

You don't fit my criteria,

but it doesn't matter.

Because you are the epitome of perfection.

Connections to a maze full of directions.

You're making me sink, but I'm not panicking.

And I find it weird.

I find every single concept of you mind whirling.

Dizzy and swirling.

I'm in this constant state of confusion around you,

I'm still trying to understand you.

Because I want to be you.

But still, I have no clue.


You take me to that state between sleep and awake where I'm dreaming but I'm slowly falling.

And life is stalling.

I seek you out when I feel insignificant because I know you'll shower me with rose petals and attention.

I think you're quickly becoming this unhealthy addiction.

You are the three words that everyone finds hard to let out.

Taking away everyone's doubt.

You've got it all figured out.

And everyone envies you for it.

But it's not something they'll admit.

But I will. I envy you so much.


There's this power around you,

Are you aware how quickly it grew?

It's too strong.

I reckon it'll be lifelong.

But somehow it's innocent.

It draws people in an hypnotizes them to stay.

Makes them believe you are the only way

to real happiness.

That's what you are, a hypnotist.


You are life beyond death,

breath after breath.

Tears of laughter over tears of pain.

Relaxation instead of strain.

Everything about you screams alive.

I swear it's this never ending drive,  

that you have.


Your fingers, they're always tapping, either against the edge of a book you're reading, caressing the tip of the page,

or if they're just drumming on your thighs, to a tune only you can hear.

Your fingers are always moving.

And it's your feet, that are always active.

Shaking as you sit down, jittery for no reason.

Every single piece of you reminds me what it's like to be conscious.

Your face is warmth,

you can see the blood coursing through your whole body,

pumping adrenaline.

Making you alive.


You are the extra choice everyone desperately needs.

A reassurance people actively seek.

The picture of long healthy years ahead,

Sewn from the thinnest of silver thread.

A heart breaker that leaves shattered hearts wishing to be broken a thousand times over,

if it would only be by the touch of your hand.


You are someone that no matter how hard one pretends not to notice,

cannot stay out of their mind.

You'll have them wishing to be blind,

so they can't look back to remember you.

Because just thinking of you, leaves them in a daze for weeks.

They will always know you, and will always write about you.

No matter how hard they grip the pencil until it snaps

and no matter how many people they clumsily move on to.

I think it's because everything about you screams magnificence and

completeness and



You're free because you've gotten a taste of empowerment,

the day you learnt that your own company is the best.

Because no one else can leave you at rest, without this everlasting stress,

to please everyone.

Your self love is a goal everyone else is striving for.

It pushes them more and more.

Because you don't need anyone.

You've learnt to be whole on your own.

And it is


Because I see your skin healing over itself and,

your heart knows it's way back to you.

You don't have a definition, because

there is too much to you,

depth unimaginable.


You've found the most complete, the most electric, and the most simple way to live.

And so you're happy.


You are a role model with flaws and

the fluttering of eyelashes against cold skin and

the overwhelming question of where to begin

You are sanity,


and logic.



and toxic.

There's pain

and loss,

but a must to sustain

these bridges, to cross

over, and feel alive once more.

To stare at your reflection, and believe it's something to adore.


Because it is all about living.

Breathing and



When you dance, and

laugh and

live every day of your life,

I hope sometimes,

it's my voice that you hear in your head,

and I pray,

you think of me lovingly.

Because I do for you and

I think I'm too in love with you and...  

and I must say,

I don't think I'll ever stop trying to be you.


I can't get you out of mind,

so I'll continue to write about you, and

only hope one day you receive this jumbled mess I think is a love letter.





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