i am tired
i am tired of feeling like your sometimes
i am tired of feeling like the secondhand smoke
you’re inhaling, wishing you weren’t because the air is cleaner somewhere else
i am tired of feeling like an old middle school trophy
something you used to be so happy to have
but now is just there because you can’t be bothered to move it or throw it away
i am tired of feeling like i was not good enough
like i am not good enough
like i’m not pretty, smart, kind, adventurous enough for you
i am tired
i am tired of feeling like the flip side of an exam paper
just when you thought you were done
you have to handle more of it
i am tired of feeling like a chip on your shoulder
the one everyone knows exists
but everyone pretends doesn’t for the sake of convenience
i am tired of feeling like the second beer bottle
the one you don’t really want but drink out of habit
i am tired
i am tired of making homes out of temporary people
i am tired of making homes out of people who don’t
even have the decency to say goodbye
i am tired of making homes out of people
who take my presence for granted
i am tired of feeling cracks in my ribcage
i am tired of feeling like my lungs are punctured
i am tired of feeling like my heart has been on the wrong side of a fistfight

i’ve been told i love you and i’ll always love you
by someone who is making his way out of my life
while i am here trying to rip him out of my heart
but not being able to because he is stuck to every fiber of my being
so when my friends tell me they love me
i tell them i don’t want to hear it
they think i’m joking and say it anyway
i pretend i don’t hear it
because people leave
people
always
leave
i have so much love in my heart for the boy who broke it
how twisted is that
but i have even more love for those who’ve helped me
put it back together
if i could,
i’d tell my friends i love them twice in every minute
the first time so they know
the second so they don’t forget
but you can’t do that
so instead
i call them idiots and number them off
i can’t call them cute names
because the last boy i called baby
doesn’t respond anymore.
i say
text me when you get home
i hope you’re doing okay
i say
i saw this and i thought of you
i’m eating at your favorite restaurant and i miss you
i say
i know you kicked *** on that test
and even if you didn’t it doesn’t matter,
you are more than your grades
i bring them coffee
i bring them cookies
i bring them gifts when i travel
i send them letters
i send them birthday gifts and birthday wishes
i write long texts because i’m too far to reach them
so i hope my words touch you because my hands can’t
i have so much love in my heart for the boy who broke it
how twisted is that
but i have even more love for those who’ve helped me
put it back together
so i find a million ways to say i love you
one from every piece of me.

sometimes i feel helpless because all i have is a necklace, four year old letters and a few text messages.
i have no proof we were real.
we don't have pictures together, our love doesn't seem tangible. like it was a figment of my imagination.
i feel like a child insisting santa is real.
i have no proof we were real.
it’s like i’m hallucinating and making up our love story in my head
the you i see is not the you everyone else sees. because i know you in ways others don’t
i know you don’t lie to me
i know you’re honest with me
because you don’t know how to be honest with yourself or anyone else
i know how hard it is for you to find people you trust
that’s why you can’t let go of me
i know all of this, no one else does.
i feel like a child insisting santa is real.
everyone insists that you are horrible,
you played me,
you hurt me,
you don’t really care,
you didn’t really mean what you said
that i deserve more
i feel like a child insisting santa is real.
because i have no proof that the you i know really exists.
i have no proof that a part of you is attached to me
because you never show me, you only tell me
because actions speak louder than words
because i am screaming about you and you are
only whispering about me
i feel like a child insisting santa is real
because i love you when i’m in the middle of an exam
i love you in the middle of my work out
i love you when i’m tipsy at 5pm
and when i’m drunk at 6am
i love you when i’m sober as hell
i love you no matter what
but you don’t know how to love me,
not really
you don’t know how to let yourself love me
you only love me when the lights are off,
when the curtain’s drawn
you can’t love me to my face
because i scare you to death
you can’t love me in front of a mirror
because your reflection terrifies you
you don’t know how to love me
you are afraid to love me
so you pretend you don’t
and no one believes me when i say you do
i feel like a child insisting santa is real
i cannot keep letting you walk in and out of my life
it’s like i’m 8 and i’m finally being told
that leaving cookies and milk out was for nothing
that santa isn’t real
i realize that
i cannot keep letting you walk in and out of my life,
and that santa doesn’t sneak into my apartment on christmas eve
but i still keep my door unlocked for you.
like a child insisting santa is real

you saved my life, in the very literal sense.
so i foolishly thought i could trust you with it.
stupid me.
you completed my life, in the very literal sense.
so i foolishly thought i could trust you with it.
stupid me.
i put my life in your hands and you let it slip between your fingertips
you let it slip between your fingertips and break into a million pieces
a few years later, i am still picking up the pieces.
every so often you make your way back in and
i tell you everything i’ve been holding in
you say all the right things
and i foolishly believe you.
stupid me.
i let you in again.
stupid me.
the last time, i was paranoid and terrified.
but you say all the right things
and i reluctantly, foolishly believe you.
stupid me,
i shouldn’t have.
and now for the first time in four years,
i blame you.
i am still unlearning blaming myself.
but i recognize it’s your fault.
i recognize that you were someone i could trust,
and that it’s not my fault that you changed.
stupid me.
for thinking it was.
eventually you are going to make your way back in or so some part of me seems to think.
and i will tell you everything i’ve been holding in.
and i will make you earn my trust if you want it.
see if you’ll actually fight for all of me. not beg for parts of my body.

but i know now that denying your existence in the depths of my heart
will do nothing but harm me.
i acknowledge everything that happened between us
and i will be honest and admit that i do still hold you in my heart.
but now that the chapter of my life with you in it is over,
i can only turn over a new page and
move on with my life.
accepting the changes you have made in me.
because hurricanes have nothing on you,
you swallowed me whole and spat me out like i was poison to your lips.
you are still a part of me.
but you are not the only part of me.
i am more than just in love with you.
i am in love with art
and i am in love with the honesty it conveys.
i’m in love with sunsets by the beach,
and watching the autumn leaves change.
i am in love with the cities i’ve been to
and the cities i’ve lived in.
i am passionate about more than just making you happy.
i am passionate about seeing the world
i am passionate about taking care of the one body i was given.
i drink more than just the words that poured out of your mouth,
i used to drink alcohol to forget you and
coffee to make up for the sleep i lost over you.
but now i drink all that and so much more just because i want to.
i no longer want to look good for you, i want to feel beautiful for me.
i am more than just your ex girlfriend,
i am my own person, and
i am a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a friend.
i am an artist, a writer, a reader.
there is a fire inside me and it would take more than a boy to put it out.
i will become good enough for myself
instead of beating myself up for not being
pretty, smart, funny, adventurous enough for you.
i will do things because they satisfy my soul
and not because they would satisfy yours
i will find a way to be complete without you

i want to call you and yell and scream and let it all out
i want to throw an empty bottle of ***** at your head and hear it hit the wall in a million pieces. i want you to hear the sound of glass shattering so you’ll never forget how much you’ve affected me
i want to cry my eyes out and i want someone to hear me do it
i want you to pay attention to what you’ve done to me
i want you to notice the person i’ve become

but
i want to be calm and collected

i want you to see me dancing with someone else
i want you to see the smile on my face and wonder who put it there
i want you to see me kiss another boy and i want you to feel insanely jealous
i want you to see me in that dress and picture yourself taking it off
i want you to want what you can’t have and feel the insanity of frustration boil inside you

i want you to ache someday like i ache right now

but
i couldn’t bear to see you in pain

i love him despite his imperfections.
i love him despite the mistakes we’ve both made
i love him despite how much we’ve hurt each other
i love him unconditionally because that’s what i promised him
i love him because i know that what we had can’t be replicated
our love wasn’t easy or simple or straightforward
it was insane, and it was an absolute force of nature: destructive at times, but when it was good, **** it was great
we made each other happy
despite the arguments and the fights, we loved each other so much it hurt.
we were a couple of children but god it was magical
i love him because he said a part of him would always love me
i love him because he said that if it weren’t for anyone else, we’d still have a chance
i love him because i believe in what we had