I'm so hopelessly in love with you, I cannot do anything without you on my mind. I have conversations with you in my head. I dream of you when I sleep. I make coffee and wish it was for two. I take a walk and it always leads me to you.

Everything in the world has become yours. The moon reminds me of the times we walked under it together. The colour white reminds me of how much you love it. Grass reminds me of how you love walking on it, barefoot. My hands remind me of how perfectly they fit in yours. My eyes remind me of how I long to see you.

Summer is the season of new beginnings and endless hope. It's meant to be spent with friends at the beach, feeling bigger than the world, happier than your physical body can contain. These months are to rediscover yourself, fall in love, leave lipstick stains on lemonade glasses, take that road trip and to just, be happy.

If winter belongs to longing, summer belongs to hope.

I'm starting to appreciate summer after it's been visiting me for twenty one years. The seasonal fruits, the lemonade, the fashion, the endless joy, waves over your feet at the beach, the glowy skin, summer songs and how the sun shines a little and makes everyone feel sixteen. Maybe, if something comes too easy in life, we don't really appreciate it enough.

You have a million things to do. There are approximately twenty eight things going wrong in your life right now. But there's a patch of sunlight falling on clean grass and a lemonade stand a few feet away. Sometimes, you've got to buy a lemonade, sit down on grass and feel the sunlight on your skin with your eyes closed. It won't fix your life, but it'll make you happier.

Hope is such a beautiful, magical thing. You know there's a friendship in your life that won't last. You know you will never quite be able to fix your relationship with your parents. You know you won't ever find the kind of love you dream of. But in moments of strength, you hope. And sometimes, like a miracle, hope wins.

You're a few states away building your life and I'm here building mine. But we used to be closer under this sun, once. We spent summers together, playing on the same grass, biking under the same rain, building dreams while watching kites. You told me you'd own a big house one day and you'd give me a room. I told you when I adopt two pet cats, I'd let you name one. "Because I'm special?" "Because you're special."

Your birthday passed and I didn't call because I was scared you wouldn't pick up in the middle of your party.

So many years are between us, but when I think of summer, childhood, freedom and happiness, I still think of you.

Things were easier when we were kids. I didn't care if you didn't understand the things I cared about. You didn't care that my dreams were different and bigger than yours. We just liked that we were together, under the same sun, taking turns on the swing set with the same grass brushing our bare feet, the same wind on our faces, watching the same kids flying kites a few feet away, sharing laughs when they teased us for liking each other.

I hope you find happiness. I hope you meet a beautiful woman and fall in love. I hope she loves you to death. I hope she doesn't share a single quality with me.

There are parts of me you never saw but there are parts of me I only ever showed you. It's almost bittersweet now, when I analyse a song deeply and don't know who to tell. When I learn the story behind a constellation and have a conversation with you in my head. Bittersweet, because we did all that we could with who we are and sometimes, things just have to end.

My favourite fictional character has changed, since we last talked. I've learned to cook a little better, to communicate a little better, to allow myself to lean on others a little better. There are thirteen songs I discovered and immediately thought, oh he would have liked this. I've learned to be less scared of being vulnerable. I've learned when people tell me they love me, maybe they really do mean it. And if I tell them I need more from them, maybe they won't leave me. I've started to find myself since we last talked. If you were here, with a heart less broken, you would have been proud.

The human urge to crave happiness, the poet urge to get my heart broken again and again and again . . .

"why do you write?"

because the universe is limitless. there's so much to see, so many people to fall in love with and I can't do it all in one lifetime. I can't live as much as I want to. I can't get my heart broken as many times as I want to just so I can heal and do it all over again. i cannot pretend I have ever felt loved. so I write endlessly about things I'd like to feel, lives I'd like to live so I can kid myself into believing them.

Everyone in the room feels a certain kind of magic, looking at them. He's so clearly in love with her and she's pretending she doesn't know, testing how long he'd keep it hidden. His eyes find her so easily when she walks in, like nothing else could possibly hold his attention when she's present. They smile at each other and every single time their eyes light up. Looking at them---it just instantly makes you root for them. You want them to be happy more than you want to be happy.

When I tell you I love you, will things change for the better? Will you hold my hand when we walk together and find my eyes in a crowded room or will it all go wrong and I'll become a name you try to avoid? I wonder if it would be easier to take the risk or to forever live like this, torn between telling you how I feel and keeping it all buried.