Jul 2011
I look into her gaze, when she makes the statement,
“We should date. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” I say.
“I think you should save your breath, and your heart.
I’ll be your next mistake.
I’ll be the next pain you feel.
I’ll be the next tears you shed.
I’ll be the ghost you’ll spend a lifetime trying to escape.
I’ll be the person you adore the most, and want to rip apart.
I’ll be the next nightmare you have.
I’ll be the next constant trouble you can’t get off your back.
I’ll be everything that you don’t need.
If I could gather up all of the people I have met and who haven’t hated me,
I could fit them all into a bathtub,
And fill it up with the tears others have shed because of me.
You’re bound to suffer, because you can never love me.
Or understand me.
Just like everybody else.
And it’s because I’m different.
Because I’m strange. Weird. Eccentric.
You’ll never love me; just the version of me you wish I was.
And the moment you realize who I am,
You’ll be so disgusted with me you’ll lift your bags and walk out of the door to the house that is my life.”
She says to me,
“You never asked me what I think.
I think you’re lovely.
A diamond in the rough.
A gem I’ll wear on my chest, proudly.
I’ll drain your bathtub and dry you off, because it’s what you deserve.
And when life pushes you down,
Turn to me, because I’ll always have an outstretched hand for you.
I’ll make my heart beats synchronize with yours,
Just so you will always know that somebody shares something with you.
Even if God himself turns you away,
I’ll say that heaven doesn’t deserve us.
When nobody else understands who you are,
Realize that I do.
I’ll learn everything.
I’ll learn the way you sleep, the way you breath, the way you drink, the way you think, the way you exist.
I get you. Who you are. Who you want to be.
I’m fit for you, and you, for me.”
My heart beats with bliss,
And I smile with an excitement that couldn’t even be touched by mere words.
I turn my head to respond, but she’s gone.
The figment of my imagination has died out again,
And I’m left alone in this dark room,
With only a few words written on paper in an attempt to make myself not feel as empty as I truly am.
“We should date. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” I say.
“I think you should save your breath, and your heart.
I’ll be your next mistake.
I’ll be the next pain you feel.
I’ll be the next tears you shed.
I’ll be the ghost you’ll spend a lifetime trying to escape.
I’ll be the person you adore the most, and want to rip apart.
I’ll be the next nightmare you have.
I’ll be the next constant trouble you can’t get off your back.
I’ll be everything that you don’t need.
If I could gather up all of the people I have met and who haven’t hated me,
I could fit them all into a bathtub,
And fill it up with the tears others have shed because of me.
You’re bound to suffer, because you can never love me.
Or understand me.
Just like everybody else.
And it’s because I’m different.
Because I’m strange. Weird. Eccentric.
You’ll never love me; just the version of me you wish I was.
And the moment you realize who I am,
You’ll be so disgusted with me you’ll lift your bags and walk out of the door to the house that is my life.”
She says to me,
“You never asked me what I think.
I think you’re lovely.
A diamond in the rough.
A gem I’ll wear on my chest, proudly.
I’ll drain your bathtub and dry you off, because it’s what you deserve.
And when life pushes you down,
Turn to me, because I’ll always have an outstretched hand for you.
I’ll make my heart beats synchronize with yours,
Just so you will always know that somebody shares something with you.
Even if God himself turns you away,
I’ll say that heaven doesn’t deserve us.
When nobody else understands who you are,
Realize that I do.
I’ll learn everything.
I’ll learn the way you sleep, the way you breath, the way you drink, the way you think, the way you exist.
I get you. Who you are. Who you want to be.
I’m fit for you, and you, for me.”
My heart beats with bliss,
And I smile with an excitement that couldn’t even be touched by mere words.
I turn my head to respond, but she’s gone.
The figment of my imagination has died out again,
And I’m left alone in this dark room,
With only a few words written on paper in an attempt to make myself not feel as empty as I truly am.
