Sep 2020
please know that i’m alright, you don’t have to worry.
i’m sorry for ignoring your messages yesterday. i wasn’t sick, i just decided to skip school and i’m skipping it again today after i drop this off. please don’t be mad-i went to that overlooking spot we’ve planned on seeing together. i really needed some air to think, about the previous weeks. though in all frustating honesty, there’s not much of a need for it- the scenes they’re made up with play on repeat in my head anyway.
i’ve grown fond of getting to know you. of the sound of your voice while you talk about your musings no matter the range of randomness they go by. i’ll always remember that blue’s your favorite color, the satin kind just two shades away from the cerulean of the sea midmorning and that you prefer your meatloafs crispy. i’ll always remember all our exchanges in the locker room that went on even as the bell rang, the notes passed in class contaning nothing but stupid banters. and how can i forget lying in the field, our playlists running along the sky as it got drained of its last pastel colors?
oh how we held hands once, twice-thrice if only i didn’t stare for a second longer than i should’ve, making it awkward.
there’s no use in denying that i’d love to encase your fingers in mine each time i’m with you-be it in the field, in the halls, down some road we’d get lost in, that diner you get a bucket of wings from. perhaps you can fill the gap between my fingers with all the darkness and secrets and the whims you keep at the edges of your mind.
and that’s what terrifies me.
that in the course of talking to you i’ve grown fond of wanting this. of having ‘more’ come out of this.
all my life i’ve known better than tethering in territories anchored by love and all its *******; this isn’t me being cynical just realistic. this is more than just trespassing some abandoned building just to get a nice view from its rooftop. neither is it because of baggages accumulated from past heartbreaks. no it’s not that i fear your being failing to be inhabited by some past lover’s ghost, causing my expectations to be let down. i just have the tendency to act brashly-this part clearly shows just how capable i am of causing you pain, maybe more than the potential of loving. so i’d rather you hurt from this revelation of who i really am.
when you get this please just ignore me, i’d take pleasure in you hating me. ‘cause as much as i want to keep talking to you, i just can’t. i’m sorry.
when what used to be our songs play on shuffle, please don’t ruin them with thoughts of me. they deserve to be shared with someone who’d dedicate them to you as love letters not someone who has goodbye letters for a confession.
i’m sorry for ignoring your messages yesterday. i wasn’t sick, i just decided to skip school and i’m skipping it again today after i drop this off. please don’t be mad-i went to that overlooking spot we’ve planned on seeing together. i really needed some air to think, about the previous weeks. though in all frustating honesty, there’s not much of a need for it- the scenes they’re made up with play on repeat in my head anyway.
i’ve grown fond of getting to know you. of the sound of your voice while you talk about your musings no matter the range of randomness they go by. i’ll always remember that blue’s your favorite color, the satin kind just two shades away from the cerulean of the sea midmorning and that you prefer your meatloafs crispy. i’ll always remember all our exchanges in the locker room that went on even as the bell rang, the notes passed in class contaning nothing but stupid banters. and how can i forget lying in the field, our playlists running along the sky as it got drained of its last pastel colors?
oh how we held hands once, twice-thrice if only i didn’t stare for a second longer than i should’ve, making it awkward.
there’s no use in denying that i’d love to encase your fingers in mine each time i’m with you-be it in the field, in the halls, down some road we’d get lost in, that diner you get a bucket of wings from. perhaps you can fill the gap between my fingers with all the darkness and secrets and the whims you keep at the edges of your mind.
and that’s what terrifies me.
that in the course of talking to you i’ve grown fond of wanting this. of having ‘more’ come out of this.
all my life i’ve known better than tethering in territories anchored by love and all its *******; this isn’t me being cynical just realistic. this is more than just trespassing some abandoned building just to get a nice view from its rooftop. neither is it because of baggages accumulated from past heartbreaks. no it’s not that i fear your being failing to be inhabited by some past lover’s ghost, causing my expectations to be let down. i just have the tendency to act brashly-this part clearly shows just how capable i am of causing you pain, maybe more than the potential of loving. so i’d rather you hurt from this revelation of who i really am.
when you get this please just ignore me, i’d take pleasure in you hating me. ‘cause as much as i want to keep talking to you, i just can’t. i’m sorry.
when what used to be our songs play on shuffle, please don’t ruin them with thoughts of me. they deserve to be shared with someone who’d dedicate them to you as love letters not someone who has goodbye letters for a confession.
