This may be re-blogged a thousand times

"Every sentiment you read has been written before a thousand times. And I know, why you like this. Because we all want the same thing, this intangible, fluttering thing we want to grab out of the thick air of reality, the cracks in the sidewalk and the peeling paint of the walls.
We’re going for the glimpse, this texture and touch and a parallel world where you feel everything you see, and your fingers are brushing on the canvas of every beautiful thing in front of you, and everything is beautiful, everything is beautiful even when it’s sad—especially when it’s sad.
I know, I want the same thing reflected on the back of a dirty spoon or the spine of a library book in the patterns of the greasy counter, between the folds of the sheets on the bed.
It’s the way things are stacked a certain way or a certain note of a song flickers a switch inside of you. But I’m impatient. I don’t want to wait. I want it all and I want it now. I want it burning my finger tips and exploding above my eye lashes. I want it in every glance I meet, inside the colors of flushed cheeks and heated touch. I want it in the spaces between things you’re waiting for and things that will never come.
You want the same thing. I’m sorry if I’ve misread. I’m sorry if I misunderstand. I’m sorry, so sorry if I can’t offer it to you,
not in these grandiose sketches at poetry or in those stories of bleak pretty fantasy. I’m sorry I don’t have an happy ending."
Pretentious and Pop