but if you try sometimes

exactly...except i would never wish i didn't love you, and i could write a thousand books and it still wouldn't come close to what i feel.

i want the world to see you be with me

five minutes to midnight and there you were on the other side of the sliding glass door, leaning on the bar, waiting as we all hovered on the other side waiting for you. i tapped the glass and you grinned and shrugged. two minutes to midnight and i decided it would be okay if we just smiled at each other through the glass because there would be plenty of time for kisses later. 10 9 8 the DJ said and suddenly there you were 7 6 5 forgotten gold chain of my purse still slung over your shoulder 4 3 2 and we didn't even get to say 1 and yes, it was a happy new year indeed.

and i know that it's so cliche

i don't know why it's now that i'm missing london so much, that i'm looking at old pictures and longing, or looking at old quotes and laughing. i see a picture of the parking garage next to our flats and want to cry. i pore over images of the city lit up like a birthday cake and wonder how it is that i lived there for four months like it was nothing, walked down those streets like it was nothing, cherished every moment but never realized how much i'd still miss it, even a whole year after leaving it. i don't think i've ever grown to love a city so much; it wasn't love at first sight but after winding my way through its intricacies every day i just can't forget it, can't shake it off. i can't imagine not going back, but i can't imagine it ever being the same. but i guess that's the thing about london, as it is with every good city: it's alive, it never stays the same, it breathes - and even though the worn cobblestones remain and the old buildings still stand, there will always be something different about that place and maybe that's why i love it so much.

for months after i always wondered if i had made the right choice. should i have tried harder for rome, the first city i ever loved, the beauty, the food, the ancient-ness of it all? or australia which everyone seemed to love so much - the sweeping landscapes, the crazy nights, crazy travels? or spain or mexico with a language i knew but a totally different culture? i watched abroad friend groups get stronger and others fall apart, while my own group of 20 dwindled down to about 6. but even though a big part of london, for me, was the people i met there, in the end it's not about that, and it's not about missing out on something i could've gotten if i had studied abroad somewhere else. it's about the way i felt when i walked across blackfriars bridge in the sunshine. it's about standing on the balcony of the national gallery looking down at trafalgar square. it's about marveling at every item in sainsbury's and laughing at weird flavors of potato chips we wouldn't be able to find in the USA. it's about standing on that spot on the globe stage and hearing my voice echo around me. it's about the triumphant satisfaction i felt the first time i squeezed onto the tube in the nick of time, and the first time i navigated my way inside king's cross without having to look at the signs. it's about the very first time i ordered a drink at a pub, the way i wanted to cry before the first act ended in les miserables, the way my feet were numb after running all the way to school in a skirt and flats, the way i could walk down the streets of london at night and feel totally safe, like i was home.

we should get jerseys 'cause we make a great team

missing you is different from missing anybody else. i've had empty longing, heartache that phsyically hurt me when i would cry and cry myself to sleep at night, before. but it's not like that with you; and it's not that i don't miss you as much, because honestly i have missed you more than i have missed anyone else before.

the thing is, before, it was always about the absence, the lack of speaking, lack of seeing, lack of being with whoever i needed to be with. and now, even though you're a thousand miles away you are more here with me than anyone else ever was. and my life doesn't seem empty and meaningless when you're gone, either. and don't take that the wrong way, because when you are here you make my life better, so much better, but i am still me. i am still happy. and the only thing that could make me even happier is if you were here to share it with me.

i say that i learned how to be happy, but the truth is you were the one that taught me.

we'll bring neon to its knees

and the city lights look like the stars

i miss the thames and its blue-grayness that was sometimes dull, but more often reflected the light of the sky, the light that lived in our eyes. do you remember the south bank and the trees all strung up with blue and white lights, and how when we walked through it felt like we were in a fairy tale? or the graffiti scrawled underneath the national theatre, art in spray-paint, and how i wished my name was scrawled there too? so many times i walked that way, whether it was at twilight, hurrying along to the globe clutching my coat around me; or when we'd stroll back to the flats at night, cold but marveling at the city lights; or when i was by myself on that last day, sun glinting in my eyes, crossing albert bridge, music pounding in my ears. i sometimes think i've gotten over how much i miss london, but then i realize that i could never stop missing it, that city that got under my skin, that lived in my bones. but most of all, i miss the south bank, the place that made me feel like magic, that made me lift my arms to the skies and wish that i would never really have to go home.

you just might find you get what you need

and for every time i think about you
and every time i see a picture with
you and me, and a secret smile, and
every time i curl up close and close my eyes
after tracing constellations, lines between
freckles you can't see from far away, well,
every time your fingers fill the spaces between
my own, and i miss you, quietlysecretlysilently
before you're even gone, i wonder
how it can be real, if i will wake up and
it'll all be a dream, but then i think -
no -
and for every time i think this, i know that
even if i'm dreaming, i won't wake up -


"and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)"

every morning that you rise

and yet sometimes i am inevitably at a loss for words.