tomorrow is your last day on this planet, there’s no more pain when it’s over, it’s just a silent movie afterwards, death has been saving your favorite moments inside of a reel and he has the popcorn ready, he has your happy moments, your i’m too broken to function moments, he has all of your laughter and crying inside of a walkman cd player because he refuses to upgrade his technology just to hear if you’re having another bad day or if this is the best day of your life, in truth, he never grows tired of your many moods. tomorrow is your last day on this planet, love transformed into a thousand butterflies landing on top of your tombstone, a garden of fluttery pureness, who said you can’t be beautiful when you’re dead? tomorrow is your last day on this pale blue dot of ours, have you seen the ocean lately? she kisses your cheeks when you were six, yes, the rain is just another version of her. she ran down your face when he broke your heart, but no matter how hard you were crying over a shitty relationship, baby, don’t the tears always stop when you least expect it? someone has been kind to you lately and what do you know, you’ve forgotten all about the pain between letting go and a crappy apology. tomorrow is your last day to find yourself, death is disguised as the little girl who stepped into the rain for the very first time at the age of four, at that very moment, she didn’t know it yet, but one day, she’ll become the rain. we’re just recycled souls trying to undo past sins, this is just another version of who you’ve yet to become. tomorrow is a beautiful day indeed. but today? today is even better. today you finally get to live. i hate stories with endings, so i guess in a sense i hate all stories, how come everything good or bad has to end some day? today is your day. today is your fleeting moment. today is your first kiss memory tatted behind your heart because you wanted to keep it safe. today will never end. don’t worry. this story is a happy one, it doesn’t need a “the end.” it just needs you. it just needs love. it just needs you to be your own i. don’t say i love you to anyone else ever again until you’ve got it all figured out for yourself. how can you love anyone ever again if you don’t love yourself? they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. so stare into a cracked mirror enough and you’ll eventually see that even though a broken mirror is still a broken mirror, at least your reflection is still in there somewhere. it’s like your heart. a broken heart is still a broken heart, but at least all of the people you did love is still in there somewhere. it’s like people. a broken person is still a broken person, but at least some day… even if it’s an astronomical chance… someday like maybe today. you’ll find yourself whole again.