They all say they know how you feel. But I don't. I don't need to. I have felt the same, and am feeling the same.

It's crazy. It's inexplicable. How it all seems so wondrous. Even if it's just a mere thought. How the smile seems so radiant. Even if it wasn't for you. How a conversation could make your day. Even if it was about the weather.

(Well for me it was how everything seemed so juvenile, so silly, so so fun and happy.)

It's strange. It's mad. I never would figure out how, I, would ever leave an impression on anyone, like how I do, on you, nor can I figure out that of hers on me.

I'm not sure if it's good or bad. Because it never dies. The feeling, it never dies, it refuses to die. It's sad. But I've never wished the feeling away before. It's bittersweet.

And that feels,
that it seems,
you may feel like I do,
like I do,
like I do,
like I do.

I know you feel it too.

And you my friend, will never win unless you learn how to fight on the ground.