pragma

god, i can’t wait to be the kind of friends

who know all of each other’s stories

who’ve seen the sun rise and fall

and don’t fear the end

i can’t wait to figure my shit out

some day, soon

look in the mirror, and feel just a little stronger than i did the day before

i can’t wait to build myself up, slowly

can’t wait to feel like i’m okay

when i wake up in the morning

i can’t wait to count off wrinkles in the mirror

like the rings of a tree

i hope you’re there with me

i hope your laugh sounds like a symphony

i hope our bellies hurt

i hope the light catches your hair

i hope you get what you deserve

i hope your life is fair, and just, and wise

i hope you tell them what you think

bare your teeth, and fight for the things you beleive in

i hope we’re not afraid to live our lives

god, i can’t wait

to know you like the back of my hand

to haul your regrets up the hill next to mine

to stay, and stay, and stay

until we’re nothing but dust

in the hands of time


I’m not sure where this piece came from, exactly–I think it’s mostly fictional? But there are definitely some grains of truth in there was well. I was reading (through some internet rabbit hole) about the different kinds of greek love. Pragma is supposed to be longstanding and practical love, like that between a couple who’s been married for a really long time. I don’t know, this is definitely a case of me romanticizing the future, but it’s nice to think about getting to have that kind of bond (whether romantic or platonic) with someone some day.

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