a good kind of change

I was cruising through old snippets of things I've written in the past and came across this one from early this year. It was preceded by a long post from a few years before about a boy I had thought hung the moon. Ultimately, things didn't work out with this boy and at the time, it seemed like the end all be all. I was, of course, blissfully unaware of my future.


Yesterday you were in my dream. Except in the dream you were mine, which you aren’t. But in the dream I lost you, which I did.

Will I ever stop thinking about what could have been?



It’s funny to look back on moments you used to think were earth-shattering, and realize how silly you were. Of course, you didn’t know it then. But, oh, if you could have. 

If you could have known that the boy who made jokes at your expense, the boy who talked down to you, the boy who cut his hands on your broken pieces and ran away when he started to bleed. If you could have known that he wasn’t the one for you, maybe you wouldn’t have spent so many sleepless nights and moist cheeks on him.

If you could have known that just six months later you would meet the boy who, in time, would make your cheeks wet with tears of laughter, the boy who you could have conversations with until six in the morning, the boy who would take your broken pieces and hold them so tight and cry not because they hurt him but because he knew they hurt you. If you could have known that he was right around the corner from you, maybe you wouldn’t have thought that you deserved the hurt you were feeling.

I am still petrified of change. 

But what I didn’t realize before is that not all change is bad.