Writing has always been there by my side. Through my fingers, from my heart, soul and mind.
It’s been there since the days were my words were poorly spelled and half of it made no sense.
It’s been a way for me to cope with sorrow, lost and memories.
It’s been everything from diaries and poems to songs and letters. From rambling words and quotes to important messages.
It’s been everything between politics and inspiration to point on speeches and motivation.
It’s been a way for me to work through different emotions.
It’s been questioning topics and it’s taught me things from different religions.
It’s been a way to get to know strangers half across the world.
It’s been things from fantasies and novels to pure screams for help while I’ve been lost in the dark.
I’ve never been good with words, but writing has always been my way.
It’s been a relief of feelings and thoughts during times when I’ve been seeking for strength.
It’s been a support system for family and friends and encouragement to strangers on the internet.
It’s given me opportunities and even life changing choices.
When my voice would break I never lost my words.
Because writing has always been by my side.

Until I tried to write about you.

Because whenever I try the words disappears and I feel like I’ve lost my way.
I can ramble hundreds of texts from the top of my head that I’ve written about love.
But when it comes to you it’s like nothing is enough.
The words do not contain enough of meaning of what I want them to describe.
There’s no time for punctuations because the words I try to use slips through my fingers, and writing about you seems like now or never situations.
I’ve written and read about it so many times but suddenly none of them are even close to what it feels like right now.
You make my heart beat so hard that I’m question if it’s a heart attack or love. But at the same time I’ve never felt as calm and safe inside myself.
My thoughts are filled with words I can’t even pronounce, and my heart is overwhelmed with emotions I could never imagined to be found.
Clichés aren’t even close to describe, and “I love you” feels like empty letters randomly put side by side.
Because what you make me feel is something that steals my words, and nothing could possible scare me more.
Because writing has always been by my side. But apparently not anymore.