We've made many lists in our life together. We've drawn many pictures. We've cracked too many jokes. We've wasted too much time.
We've let most of it go. We've reduced ourselves to dependence. We've been listening to other people. We've been watching time go by. We've been complaining.
Truth is, it doesn't really matter. You're the one with the pretty words, I'm the one with the pretty memories. It's not so bad. We still have our music.

Love.

Today she's a shark. Next she'll be a princess. A few days ago she was a shikaari. She went around taping white insects to the floor. Mercilessly crushed by her pink flips-flops soon after, the poor insects, with their yellow blood oozing from under the tape. That's just how she is, insect-murderess and all. She's beautiful. One day she'll come to me with her little problems and I will be there for her no matter what. She's tiny. And she's loud.
Her name is Meher. It means 'love'.

Bruised Lips With A Little Disappointment On The Side

Let's not reflect on the disasters that we created in this very place, this very room, this inch of space where I was and so were you. Because the mistakes that I'm thinking over are still not forgotten. They aren't old and stupid enough to be laughed at just yet. Give me a week or two and we'll get to that stage too.
Hello.
But more importantly, my inability to learn from the past has stopped annoying me anymore. I will listen to my heart no matter what you tell me to do. I will ruin my life just to give myself the satisfaction. To prove to you. It's good to talk but it's better to leave the apologies unsaid. Lifeless words said by lifeless people. Who are we fooling?
Ourselves.

B,
       You're not meant to be doing this. You were born to do bigger and better things. I swear.