This is about me holding pete wentzes hand lol

Youll sit alone with your headphones over your ears, drowning out the static with his lyrics. You’ll (maybe) read them and cry. You’ll realize that he’s put words to weird and previously indescribable shit. You’ll look at him constantly. You’ll look at him and desperately want what he has, while deep down knowing that what “he has” is really a personal fantasy that could never exist but it’s easier to keep him at a distance than admit that.

Isn’t it messed up? 

Now he’s up on stage, 20 feet away, Mouthing those words back to you, wearing a hoodie that you could have found in the back of anyone’s closet. You’ll start crying again. You’ll look at him and see the way he moves, just as excited as you are. But dancing is hard when your preoccupied with trying to find words for another overwhelming feeling that just completely swells every time you are in this situation . You’ll feel like the only person in the entire world (spotlit stage, front and center) while being squished and molded into the pile of bodies that surrounds you. You strangely love it.   You’ll stare off. You’ll stop processing the bright lights youll no longer feel like your own. It’ll quiet down. He’ll talk about a heavy gross worry that loiters in your mind. He puts it into words again. You don’t understand how someone that you hold in the way you hold him could be so simple but true. You wont be able to help the salt spilling over your lower eyelids, Because really, what “he has” is similar to what you have too. You’ll see the visual of his eyes plastered up on the top of the stage staring down. You’ll stare back. you’ll subconsciously understand that watching from the outside will never give you the full picture. 

You’ll starve for everything you’ve ever wanted. You’ll become angry with yourself for hesitating. You’ll connect the face, the person to the writing, mentally refusing to let the poet hide behind his pen. He’s right there. 

He’s right there. 

You’ll breathe heavy and try to find some composure only to be interrupted by 3 hand muted guitar strums. Earlier you talked about how hearing this song would “litterally kill you.” Now, you’re hearing it. You’ll scream the lyrics so hard that you want to throw up. You’ll sound like some shitty metal vocalist. Your throat will sting. You wont notice or care. You’ll cry and cry and cry and cry tears that you can’t afford to shed.  Look. No really. Look. He’s right there. 

They’ll litter the air with pieces of excitement, blocking the sky. Look. He’ll Crawl into the crowd and the sea of people will naturally reach for him because you’re aren’t the only one who is experiencing another feeling that has no words and looking to him for him to give you the words. He’s right in front of your face. He understands how you are somehow without ever knowing you. And hes right there. Look him in the eyes and you’ll watch him look back at you, soaking eachother up in a way that is more than watching.

 Your fingers will carve into the air in front of you as you become increasingly desperate to prove the importance of this moment to him and everyone around you. This is one of the things he couldn’t possibly comprehend the way you do. You’ll feel his palm against yours and you’ll smile with every tooth in your mouth and he will too. The connection between your hands will surface the only clear thought you’ve had all night. 

Him and what he has is in your reach. 

Look. Hes right there. He understands you, and you understand him.

 He’s right here and you are too.