i wish i had never left it wouldn’t make a difference if i was there or if i never came in the first place, a testament to the latent fact that i am never anywhere or anyone anyways
and when i left i met you and i hate myself for it because until then i was fine it was all fine and it was okay
and now i’m thirteen again whenever i look at the instagram screenshot, i took it because i was zooming into your eyes too much and my fingers got tired and i decided to **** it
you’ve got me writing in verse you’ve made me published again i hate you for it
i want to be yours of course i do but i don’t just want that i usually would, but i just want you to be loved hell it doesn’t even have to be me it certainly shouldn’t be
i never looked at the sky before for answers, i think that ****’s pretty dumb but i’m also pretty dumb and you’re just pretty
if you would let me i would watch you forever i would listen for hours i’d follow you to hades or long island where you say it’s really sick or the ******* palisades or anywhere else but here and if you told me to drive off a bridge i would because it’s picturesque and you’re always right
and it’s not healthy but i never claimed to be
i can’t stop seeing what i want in my head, a movie of us surrounded by a green border i’ve gone way too far into it
and look at this **** i’m writing rupi kaur 2012 poetry so i guess she had a point about the books and the flowers or whatever
something about flowers is i thought they were so stupid like puppies and glitter but now whenever i see beautiful plants and old books i think of you and it’s sickening
a friend told me you love somebody else and it should have been relieving to me but then i just started to break because somethings wrong with me and i can’t just let the simple **** go i have to be dramatic i have to be the worst person in the world for some ******* reason
i think you don’t understand that when i look at you i don’t see the things you see because you’re beautiful and i ******* hate you for it
i don’t cry, i can’t really because being vulnerable is stupid and immature but every other day i cry and i cry for you and it isn’t fair i know but i can’t help it anymore
and i thought maybe it was another charade because i was bored and i wanted a game but then you revealed more of yourself to me and at some point i couldn’t deny that whatever you made me feel wasn’t fleeting it was forever and it’s still ******* here
i used to take risks and gambles and then i realized that they hurt beneath the skin and now i’m doing it again i’m screaming and clawing at the edge of the world
it’s two in the morning and i’m literally writing this out of order and i’m not mentioning what i should because if i do it will make it real and it will make me so utterly depraved and disgusting
i can write so many things for you and all for you and usually i could anyways but i can write books i can write anthologies plays and manuscripts things they put in chapels
if you see me don’t say anything you can laugh and swear and cuss me out and then you can leave me and i know you won’t because you’re so nice (and yes, i hate you for it) but you really should before i destroy us and this thing we’ve created
i like you too and i ******* hate you for it.
i'll cringe abt this in a few years but sadly i have mental illness LOL!