tired, but behind closed lids lie pictures of things so beautiful, my heart
aches and breaks because I cannot paint you my dreams, because I cannot make you see. I would give anything to have the power to take your breath away. I want to be the trigger for that gushing sound of breath sucked in, that sharp pang when your heart stops, that illuminating smile, that head rush you get when something so flawlessly honest and beautiful comes into contact with your soul that for a moment your chest feels like it's
about to burst. I want to make art. I want to make change. I want to make you feel alive. And when I die I want to come back as a sunrise. I want to come back
as a song. I want to come back as a smile, as hope.