He told me I was all types of wonderful.
He said I found something melancholic in everything;
That I saw meaning in all things I perceived.
And that it was so, so beautiful.
But no, it was just what I saw.
I didn't understand.
Everything felt so disheartening to me.
I didn't understand him,
who found beauty
in my own sadness.
He said he loved me for who I was,
but he didn't really know me.
For who I am.
Who I became.
Who I turned out to be.
He told me he understood,
but I know he didn't.
I could see it in his eyes,
and his smile.
In his words,
that speak of such sweetness,
but with simplicity.
Maybe it was me who couldn't understand him.
I found bleakness in the way he loved me,
and that was when I decided:
there was definitely something deeply wrong with me.
Maybe I was broken.
And perhaps broken people,
were only meant for broken people.
— Y.H.
desolation,
gentle fervor.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 1:05 AM UTC
He told me I was all types of wonderful.
He said I found something melancholic in everything;
That I saw meaning in all things I perceived.
And that it was so, so beautiful.
But no, it was just what I saw.
I didn't understand.
Everything felt so disheartening to me.
I didn't understand him,
who found beauty
in my own sadness.
He said he loved me for who I was,
but he didn't really know me.
For who I am.
Who I became.
Who I turned out to be.
He told me he understood,
but I know he didn't.
I could see it in his eyes,
and his smile.
In his words,
that speak of such sweetness,
but with simplicity.
Maybe it was me who couldn't understand him.
I found bleakness in the way he loved me,
and that was when I decided:
there was definitely something deeply wrong with me.
Maybe I was broken.
And perhaps broken people,
were only meant for broken people.
— Y.H.
desolation,
gentle fervor.
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