When I was younger I wished someone would see me, really see, and I would be beautiful. But the thought of you stealing my far-off looks and keeping them with you, wondering what I’m thinking, shaping stories out of my words scares me.
I feel like I’ve failed myself because I’ve always been so good with words. But when it came to you I was tongue tied- thought too much and spoke too little.
I’ll never understand why you had this affect on me, and I’ll never forgive myself for trailing behind other girls when I knew I had you waiting for me.
I have no excuses for what I did, except the one you heard fall out of my mouth a lot. I’m weak. Maybe I wasn’t ready for you to come into my life even though it’s all that my mind consisted of. You. you in my bed. your soft kisses on my cheek, and your wet kisses bellow my bellybutton. I should have gave you more credit then I did. I should have realized you have feelings and morals too and there is a line for everyone. I’m sorry I crossed it and dotted my “i”s behind your back. I apologize for never saying the right things after a fight, and for never making you feel like you were worth my time.
I told you I wasn’t perfect, now you can join the ranks of the one’s who have left and forgotten everything we had. I hope you’re happy.
I guess I just didn’t know it would feel like this. I’ve read and heard about heartbreak before but it’s hard to really throw yourself into those shoes if all you’ve heard are stories. Stories from family members, or friends, even from strangers on a drunken Thursday night. I didn’t expect it to hurt this bad.
I feel alienated from all the people around me and my stomach turns because the only thing I can manage to keep down is yogurt. ” can’t eat cant sleep”. I’m drugged constantly and instantly combust as soon as Im left alone when my own thoughts. I did this. I broke us. I don’t feel nineteen, I feel nine months- can’t be alone, can’t do anything, have to sleep with my mom. Why the fuck did I let this happen? Better yet, why did you never try and talk to me about it? I’ll admit I felt us fade a little, but that’s to be expected with the 2 hours distance that separated us. I told you as long as you were in it, I’d be in it. And here I am broken and bruised and deserted. I don’t know why my hands always cling to things that aren’t real, are no longer in reach.
My head is filled with moments of innocence and mystery and of all the promises you broke. What happened to getting away together? creating our own little solitude of love and pillows and cute songs to sing to each-other when we were blue. You’d make me breakfast and intently watch me eat till you knew I was satisfied with your cooking. I’m hoping a better place is all I need, because this place is tainted with your memory. Though there’s no actual proof you’ve been here, the real evidence rests on my face. Things we talked about, movies we watched, thoughts we shared. You were the only one I actually felt I could open up to you without getting my heart broken and you left just like everyone has ever done. You’ve left me with the idea that whatever I have is not worth the time. That three months is the longest anyone can love me. A coma would feel better then this. Funny that now you’re gone my dreams are filled with your presence. And I wake up to see my mom laying beside me and just cry myself back to sleep. I was not built for this. I was perfectly fine being alone, because before you I didn’t know what i was missing. I didn’t know what it actually meant to be happy.
I vaguely recollect all the sweet nothings you had whispered in my ear, but none of them included this. Oddly enough I have some hope that the light will shine on you again and maybe in the summer when you’re bored and alone in your bedroom playing on your computer, you’ll think of me. You’ll think of all the adventures we had planned, and the urgency to see me that once ran through your veins will return. But I’m a dreamer, and I know most dreams don’t come true. You asked me why it was so hard for me to break down my walls. This is why. The fear of someone pulling out.
“When they throw the water on the witch, she says, “Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness.” That line inspired my life. I sometimes say it to myself before I go to sleep, like a prayer.”—John Waters describes his favourite scene in The Wizard of Oz (via bohemea)