Life sucks. And people leave. You die a little more inside. And you try a little harder next time. But you know, somewhere in the bottom of your heart, you just know. That this, too, shall come to an end someday. And you feel stubborn. More dejected. You become a little more unmanageable. You begin to put up more fight. You act more and more like a fucking bitch. You go back to your room. You fall back into your bed. You cry. You cry harder. You hope harder. You fight harder. You become more defiant. Only with the hope that someday there will be someone who will have enough balls to fight back. He will push back and return all your craziness with his own imperfect affection. And your brokenness will fit with each other’s like two missing pieces of one giant puzzle. And he will fucking stay. And you will no longer be so fucking alone, pathetic, fucked up, miserable in this big fucking world. And your flaws will no longer be so haunting. You will no longer punish yourself for being an outlier. And you will be happy. Not happily ever after kind of happy. But sitting in the balcony together looking at the sun dropping behind mountain maze after a shitty day kind of happy. Hating each other at times but can’t live without even the quarrel kind of happy. Not giving a fucking shit about any third person kind of happy. The kind of happy that burns your soul, curdles your blood but you always end up drinking each other’s tears. But for the time being you let the tears flow down into waste. And you keep hoping. That someday someone will come along and he will fucking stay.