Tell me about the last time you read a book, in

Tell me about the last time you read a book, in

which you wanted to live forever and you just

ended up being sorry for yourself because

you couldn’t.

Tell me about the last time you were awake till

3 am, crying about your lost sweetheart, as if

no one but only she loved you.

Tell me about the last time you were fucked up

and you called every close friend of yours just

to curse them for not being with you and

ended up making them more close to you.

Tell me about the last time you thought of jumping

from a running train into a canal, just to

calm the chaos in your head.

Tell me about the last time you were

walking in the rain, drenched completely to get

rid of your demons. But you couldn’t because

they were your demons. Yours.

Then tell me there wasn’t any last time. That

there won’t be another time. That you

would do all these things over and over again

because it’s you. That you are the god of small

things and you are alive just because of these

small things.

That there are galaxies within you

which can’t be figured

out, but there will be one who will help you

to make something out of them.

And you will call the one love.