I'm the letter that you never sent, I'm the notebook you bought but never wrote in, I'm the aisle that's still wrapped up in plastic;
I'm dry paint brushes, month old lights, dusty shelves, heavy dictionaries, untouched pillows, coffee gone cold, window left open during rain
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
Its okay. You broke me. It's okay. Things break because they need to be fixed. It's okay. Maybe you're confused. Maybe you love her. It's okay. It's not like I'll love you forever, right? Things break because they need to be fixed.
I think it might be okay. I'm uncertain. I'm broken, it still hurts. It'll be okay. Sometimes things don't get fixed the way they used to be. It'll be okay. You lie. You love her. I think it'll take a little time for me to be okay. Sometimes things don't get fixed the way they used to be.
I don't know if it'll be okay. I'm lost. I'm still broken. I don't know if it'll be okay. It hurts to see you with her. I don't know if it'll be okay. You love her. You break me again. You love her. I don't know if I'll be okay. It hurts.
I don't think it'll be okay. I've been distracting myself with addictions like razors that need to be sharper and cigarettes that need to last longer. You still love her. You act like I'm not there. I don't think it'll be okay. I'm distracting myself with addictions that are becoming my life.
It won't be okay. I know; I have scars under my heart and my lungs are rotten. It'll take me years to get over this addiction. You love her. It's going to be years before I stop loving you. I buy another pack. Maybe our timing was wrong.
I'm not okay. I know; I woke up with a bottle of pills in my stomach, but I'm not dead. You kiss her at the end of the day at school. In front of everyone. I leave. Panic attacks in the school bus are in routine. I still love you. It hurts. It hurts. I don't think you'll stop loving her until I'm dead. God, I'm horrible.
It's been six months since I last saw you. I drank for the first time a week ago. I know you'd have a heart attack. If you were still here. You tell me you still love her but you couldn't do long distance because you were leaving for college and she was still in school. I'm not happy. I think it's stupid. If you loved someone that much, what's a thing like distance? I'm in a different continent than you are. I still love you. I look for you in crowds and I look for you in people. I wonder if we'd ever run into each other in the future and if you'd wanna try again. Probably not. I buy more packs.
It's been three years. Three years since I last saw you. I use nicotine patches and there are month old scars around my thighs. I smile and sometimes I can laugh without faking it. I'm in another country. I don't look for you in crowds anymore. I don't know if I'll be okay.
I don't see you in my best friend and that's something big. She can be like you, and I think I might like her. But not because of the similarities between you two. I don't know if I'm still in love you. I still feel empty and I still relapse from time to time. I guess when you love someone for so long you forget who you are without those feelings. I think it'll be okay.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
I miss how numb we would get. I miss sticking my tongue to catch each peculiar shaped snowflake. I miss making snowmen with you, forgetting a scarf as the last touch. I miss having snowball fights, and how we'd make snow angels everywhere because we still believed that angels watched over us, because we still believed. I miss the cold; I miss my nose being red and numb, my hair flying everywhere, smiling so wide. I miss wearing boots, I miss hot chocolate and marshmallows. I miss fog in the morning. I miss how happy I was in the cold.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
I want to paint you, I want to paint with you. I want to be the one that wipes that little smudge of blue paint off your nose. I want to be the one telling you how much better I am with water paint. I want to be the one that you can't get mad at because I spilt the paint. I want to be the one standing in the painting with you; the one with that sunset.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
You were the worst event and the best person to ever happen to me.
worst past, best person in my life
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC
I know I spend too much time trying to fix people who don't care about me. I know it's probably because I started this endless cycle with you and you left and I have no idea if ruining myself fixed you or if you even care about anyone I don't know if it was worth it but now I can't stop helping people in need and it's so ****** up because the people I help don't ask for it; I promise myself I'll fix them. And if I succeed, I know, I know, they're not supposed to thank me because they never asked. I did it for me. I did it because I know how ****** up this place is. I know, I know, but i can't help it, because I see you in every broken person's tears, I see you in the people that are destroying the people I am trying to fix, you are in the blades, the pills, the yelling. You are in the lies, oh the lies. I can't tell if you lied to me about half of your past or all of it. I can't tell anymore. We haven't talked in a while. I message you and you don't ask how I am.
I remember the first time I made myself bleed you told me never to harm myself again or you wouldn't talk to me. Silly you, now I know you can't do that. It only makes the suicidal person more upset and likely to do so. See what I mean? I hope through fixing all these people, somehow seeing a smile on their face after years might accidentally fix me too. It's not working but it's the only thing that doesn't make me wanna **** myself.
in a way, helping other people is the only thing I don't see you in, because I can never see you hugging a crying stranger in the bathrooms, I can never see you lending your jacket to someone because they can't have everyone at school seeing their scars, I can never see you offer your lunch to someone who's already eaten but still is hungry. I can never see you promise yourself that you will fix this person even if it's the last thing you will ******* do, arms scarred and blood polluted with nicotine, dark bags under your eyes and shaky hands. I can never see you cry over someone else's pain. I can never see you dialing her number because you know she's taken those pills. I can never see you be even slightly human. I don't believe attraction in the opposite is true, so how the hell am i still in love with you?
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
I just wanted to be a destination, or just a stop on your way, but what was I? Baggage. And somewhere along the way, you lost me
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
Funny how you pray for me; someone who doesn't believe in religion
Funny how I loved you; someone who never could feel
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 8:30 AM UTC
When you stop loving someone who doesn't love you after a long, long time you don't know who you are anymore because for so long all you've been is heartache and once it's mostly gone you have nothing left
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC