I Remember You

Talk to me.
I don't care about being your Unloader as long as you're happy.

Perhaps this would seem very un-feminist, actually, very un-ballsy but when it comes to people I love this statement holds true.

I know you're not angry at me, you're just angry.
I know I don't stress you out, you're just stressed out.
I know I'm not your priority, but that doesn't mean you don't care.
I know I'm not your priority, and it doesn't really bother me.
I know I'm certainly not the centre of the world, but at least somewhere in your centre.
I know you listen to me, you just can't process so much information.
I know you're not useless, you're just being shat upon.
I know none of this is nice, but you know I'm there for you.
I know that you know how mad you can make me, and then it takes you a million years to realize it's because I care for you so much.
I know that you know I'm not always patient, but I know you'll forgive me.
I know that you're not perfect, but you should know I don't expect you to be.

Sometimes when there's time to think, you realize a few things.
I mean every word.
This post is dedicated to my favourite big shot.
This post is dedicated to my amazing right-hand, the most intelligent and beautiful bimbo I know.
This post is dedicated to my two favourite love-birds who will fly everywhere with me.
This post is dedicated to the emotional writer who smokes clove cigarettes.
This post is dedicated to a troubled girl I met in Bali.
This post is dedicated to the Power of Three, still strong til today.
This post is dedicated to all the people who carelessly leave a mark on my easy heart.
This post is a reminder when the going gets though.

Now I go. And never come back to this place.