RISK EVERYTHING FEAR NOTHING

I just find myself writing songs in my heart and leaving them in my head…

There’s something about being a writer that makes people open themselves up to you. You write about yourself, but if you do it correctly, you’re not just writing about yourself. You’re writing about everyone, and people see themselves in your words. They feel safe. They sense connection; connection that’s always there, between everyone, but too often obscured by the illusion of separation. They open themselves to you because they see themselves in you, and thus they open themselves to themselves. Good writers make people embrace themselves in the warm safety of connection with another human being.

I love it. I know what it has meant to me when I’ve stumbled upon words in which I can see myself. I thank God for the fact that sometimes, I get it right. Sometimes, I say something that means something to someone. Sometimes, I can introduce someone to themself. And I thank God that sometimes, I can be there to receive them in the safety of mutual understanding as they do.

I always thought that I was sick and you were the cure.
But everyone gets things backwards sometimes.

Hey, remember that time you sung to me outside my bedroom window?
Do you remember when you rocked up on my doorstep, but I wouldn’t let you come in? We walked along the beach and you blinked back the tears as you read my letter. You thought I didn’t see.
I did.
Remember that night, yeah, the forbidden one?
I don’t know if you felt that or not,
but it felt like two people kissing after hours of thinking about it,
two people talking after nights of silence,
two peole touching after weeks of being numb,
two people facing eachother after months of looking away,
two people in love after years of being alone.
It felt like two people meeting each other, after an entire lifetime of not.
Do you remember nearly crashing on the side of the road, as you kissed me on the drive home?
Hey, remember when you pushed me onto the floor, then told me you initiated everytime with her.
Do you remember waking up to me poking you, clueless as to where I was or what had happened?
Remember that night we took shot after shot until we passed out.
Remember the night I made you climb to the top of the cliff with me, just to see the city lights, and know there were thousands more awake, sleepless and discontent?
Remember the week we spent away, we promised never to speak of what really happened.
I never have. How about you?
Flying home, I slept on the aeroplane floor to give you room for a better sleep, remember how angry the airhostess was?
Do you remember the night we camped out, we walked up the Zig Zag, have you forgotten the words I spoke?
Hey, remember the night you met me down at the skate park?
You dropped everything after months of silence to hold me while I cried,
I’m sorry I never really thanked you.
Do you remember practising, practising, practising,
every lunchbreak,
until we finally perfected Scar Tissue?
Remember how we never perfomed it?
Do you remember the games we used to play in our head?
Warplanes, like dragons, like some old story you’d make up when I was still young,
like I’d sit there wide eyes and wait,
for someone with a sword like magic to fix it all.
I wish you hadn’t lied to me.
Hey, remember that time I shot your ass with a paintball gun?
I’m not sorry.
Remember that time we sat on the grass all night for hitting them with noodles?
Do you remember how he slept right through?
I remember the night you proved yourself,
sitting on the bonnet of my car, drenched in rain,
waiting for me to open the door.
Remember the time we accidently drove to Northam?
Hey, I do.
Remember everytime I waited outside the arrivals gate, everytime you turned back to see me through departures,
remember the place you were before you met me?
Do you remember running through the hotel, making all the fire alarms go off?
Hey, remember that time I threw our necklace at the wall.
I forgot that you were always here.
Remember everytime you visited me in hospital?
Do you remember the day I took you to court,
then read to you until you slept.
Did you think I would forget how to love?
It’s like riding a bike,
everyone falls off and scrapes their knees sometimes.
Forget about your lists and do what you can,
because that’s all you can do.
Phone up the people you miss and tell them you love them.
Hug those close to you as hard as you can.
Because you are always only a drunk driver’s stupidity, a nervous shopkeeper’s mistake, a doctors best attemps, and an old age away from forever.


Similiar to tricycles, summer, winder, autumn, spring, bruised knees, your first kiss
 and there is no Santa Clause,
like is really just a series of things that happen.

I hate that you’re right.