there was one hazy Sunday morning where I woke up and called the boy I loved and he asked me to marry him and I didn't know how to say no to men yet. 3 months later he whispered with his body tangled with mine while he thought I was lost in sleep that he was afraid that we'd be married for years and one day he'd wake up and I would be gone without a trace because I can't handle relationships and feelings and love and I grew up alone and I can't stop craving owning my own heart. I wanted to be owned body and soul but I couldn't let myself go without digging my claws in one last attempt at holding on to the only thing that will ever be mine. what you'll never understand is this: girls like me with tiger guts can't be conquered, no matter how much we want to. when the only constant in your life is a deep and abiding addiction to reliance on yourself, relationships become a secret battle of how much of your heart you can hide from your lover and pray they never shine on the darkest parts of you.
this is a letter to you: you, my first love, my empty-hearted lover, no longer my anything. my life has become intertwined with yours and I'm still learning to pick my story apart from yours. a letter of repentance, of forgiveness, of pleading. a letter to tell you that you were right and I never could have stayed in your life and your bed for a lifetime.
(never quite) yours & all the love I don't understand,
girl