Ive always wondered why we never truly realize how much we love someone until its already too late.
Why we never appreciate all we have until theres nothing left, or how a place never seems so special until we can never turn back.
Ive always wondered why we feel so empty after doing something we thought would make us whole, because nothing ever seems like its enough.
The hard liquor trickles down our throats and numbs the pain for a little while, but in the morning when were lying in bed with nothing more than a stranger the hurt comes back full force.
Why does the affection of a mother and a father, a sister or a brother, not seem important until theyre gone?
Why do I wonder what the strangers next to me on the train are going home to, whether they have a family that adores them or a lonely apartment with no love at all? I stare at the girl with her eyes to the floor and headphones in her ears and wonder if its hard for her to get out of bed in the morning.
Why are we all so eager to grow up and move on, but weep when theres no one to tuck us into bed at night?
Ive always wondered how one day someone can be in the midst of making their cup of coffee and decide they dont love you anymore. How someone can smile all day long, yet cry into their pillow when everyone else is asleep. How a person can be put in a casket on a Tuesday when you had just seen them on the Monday.
Would life be different if you had blue eyes instead of brown, blonde hair instead of dark? What if you had been born in a different place at a different time? Would you be happier?
I wonder if that little girl knew what her uncle was doing to her when she was only seven, hardly able to tie her own shoes or wash her own hair. I wonder how no one ever did anything to help her.
I wonder why we never grasp just how much someone is crying out to us, by the scars on their wrist or the whispers theyd make about how no one would miss them.
Ive always wondered if anyone would miss me. If the people who held me in their arms would be the ones to never think of me again, if the people who laughed in my face would forever live with regret in their hearts.
I wonder if the way the rain feels against my skin is the same way it feels against yours. If the words of my favorite song remind you of the way it felt when he let you go after promising he never would, or when the warm August air made you crazy for a boy who was leaving in September.
I wonder how its possible to forget a face. I wonder how you can forget the sound of someones voice or the way they tasted against your lips, even though you swore to yourself youd always remember.
How can we grow up learning all the words,
yet forgetting how to sing?