Just Friends.

I know that I don’t own you,

and perhaps I never will,

so my anger when you’re with her,

I have no right to feel.

I know that you don’t owe me,

and I shouldn’t ask for more;

I shouldn’t feel so let down,

all the times when you don’t call.

What I feel—I shouldn’t show you,

so when you’re around I won’t;

I know I’ve no right to feel it

but it doesn’t mean I don’t.

When ignorance is bliss.

I deplore,

being ignored.

For—

I am not a bore!

But it’s perplexingly sweet,

and quite sexy too—

to be ignored,

ignored by you

A thank-you note.

You have said

all the things

I need to hear

before I knew

I needed to hear them.

To be unafraid

of all the things

I used to fear,

before I knew

I shouldn’t fear them

Lost things.

Do you know when you’ve lost something—like your favorite T-shirt or a set of keys—and while looking for it, you come across something else you once missed but have long since forgotten? Well whatever it was, there was a point where you decided to stop searching, maybe because it was no longer required or a new replacement was found. It is almost as if it never existed in the first place—until that moment of rediscovery, a flash of recognition.

Everyone has one—an inventory of lost things waiting to be found. Yearning to be acknowledged for the worth they once held in your life.

I think this is where I belong—among all your other lost things. A crumpled note at the bottom of a drawer or an old photograph pressed between the pages of a book. I hope someday you will find me and remember what I once meant to you.

Betrayal.

I cannot undo

what I have done;

I can’t un-sing

a song that’s sung.

And the saddest thing

about my regret—

I can’t forgive me,

and you can’t forget.

Sad Songs.

Once there was a boy who couldn’t speak but owned a music box that held every song in all the world. One day he met a girl who had never heard a single melody in her entire life and so he played her his favorite song. He watched while her face lit up with wonder as the music filled the sky and the poetry of lyrics moved her in a way she had never felt before.

He would play his songs for her day after day and she would sit by him quietly—never seeming to mind that he could only speak to her through song. She loved everything he played for her, but of them all—she loved the sad songs best. So he began to play them more and more until eventually, sad songs were all she would hear.

One day, he noticed it had been a very long time since her last smile. When he asked her why, she took both his hands in hers and kissed them warmly. She thanked him for his gift of music and poetry but above all else—for showing her sadness because she had known neither of these things before him. But it was now time for her to go away—to find someone who could show her what happiness was.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Do you remember the song that was playing the night we met?

No, but I remember every song I have heard since you left

Soulmates.

I don’t know how you are so familiar to me—or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place—some other existence.

Always.

You were you,

and I was I;

we were two

before our time.

I was yours

before I knew,

and you have always

been mine too

All or nothing.

If you love me

for what you see,

only your eyes would be

in love with me.

If you love me

for what you’ve heard,

then you would love me

for my words.

If you love

my heart and mind,

then you would love me,

for all that I’m.

But if you don’t love

my every flaw,

then you mustn’t love me—

not at all

- Can I ask you something?


- Anything.


- Why is it every time we say good night, it feels like good-bye

Madurez

La madurez, en los seres humanos, puede asociarse a un nivel biológico con el desarrollo y el pleno funcionamiento de los órganos sexuales. Para la psicología, sin embargo, no hay una edad que asegure haber logrado la madurez emocional.

En concreto cuando hablamos de madurez emocional nos estamos refiriendo al hecho de que una persona en cuestión cuenta con un pensamiento y una conducta, tanto sobre sí misma como sobre el resto del entorno, que indiscutiblemente la alejan de cualquier tipo de actitud que se pueda definir como infantil.

En este sentido, las principales muestras de que una persona es madura son que acepta las críticas y las analiza y estudia para mejorar, que sabe controlar sus ataques de mal genio, que siempre acepta las consecuencias de sus actos sin ampararse o justificarse en excusas, que establece que nada es blanco o negro pues siempre hay un término medio o que ha superado la fase de envidia y celos por los demás.

No obstante, no son las únicas señas de identidad que se emplean para considerar que una persona ya goza de madurez. Así, por ejemplo, también se establece que entre sus virtudes se tienen que encontrar el que escuche de una manera reflexiva y tolerante las opiniones de otras personas, que no busca de modo continuo los defectos en los demás, que no se preocupa de manera innecesaria de las cosas que no puede controlar ni remediar o que no se impacienta de forma ilógica.