she writes the way i cry and have tantrums whenever anything goes wrong.
she writes the way i listen to music,
so passionately yet so naturally you don't even have to try.
and even i have to skip past countless of songs before finding the right one.

to the girl whom i thought needed fixing,
but the one who needed fixing was me.
to the girl whom i thought was wrong,
but the one who was wrong was me.
to the girl whom i thought should stop having feelings for other girls,
while the one who had feelings for another girl was me.

to the girl i actually really liked talking to,
and i thought it was just the writer part of you.
but little did i know how much i didn't realize that i actually liked you.

i remember always looking forward to your emails,
i remember smiling, seeing how flattered you are with my words.
i remember pouring my heart out to you, about how much i look up to you.
but most of all i remember getting to know you, even if it's not every part of you.

and it wasn't just the writings,
it wasn't just the stories,
it was the feelings i had, indescribable when i first saw a picture of you that you posted.
it was the denial that i didn't realize was there,
it was the realization, the reality of it all slapping me in the face years later.

you wrote the way i had tantrums
you wrote the way i listen to music, even until now
you wrote in a way that left me wanting more,
you wrote in a way that made me fall

it's been a few years since i last saw you write.
been a while since i last got excited for whenever you post something, and i'd get a notification:

ping!

i hope you're okay out there, wherever you might be.
i hope you're alive and well,
and most of all i hope you know how much you deserve to live, how much you deserve better.

to the girl who wrote, parawr.