Words are just noises, and sometimes they don’t mean anything. Sometimes we also cling to them when it’s what we want to hear. But love, a feeling, is something so different. Just because you tell someone you love them doesn’t mean that you do, and just because you don’t say anything at all doesn’t mean that you don’t. When someone loves you, they show it in so many ways. To me, I can tell someone loves me when they do things to show me that they care about me. Someone who attempts to understand your feelings, and someone who goes out of their way to do even little things for you, like wait for you, and try to sit by you and talk to you. The little things, like when people notice that you’re feeling left out and make an effort to include you. Or the people who kiss your forehead when you’re asleep, even though they know you won’t feel it, or ever know they did it, they do it anyways because they love you.

        I worry about a lot of different things. I wish that wasn’t the case, because life is so much more enjoyable when you sit back and let things happen without being worrysome. But for me, it seems unavoidable to worry. I worry about every little thing.  I worry about things even proven to be impossible; and I also worry about things that don’t matter in the long run. I think what I worry about most is what I look like, and also what people think about me when they look at me. It’s such a silly thing to worry about because it doesn’t matter.