falling out of love with you
was like falling asleep.
first slowly and then all at once.

If people were rain…
Then I must be drizzle,
And you…
A hurricane.
It’s the way people present themselves,
A first impression.
You came in and left destruction in your wake.
Destruction was everywhere… in everyone.
Including me.
You were one of those hurricanes that they named… although the name, I never heard.
Funny, because no one else saw, heard, or felt the effects of you like I did.
I was the sole survivor….
And the only one who experienced the hell you brought forth.
Me, being the drizzle… I came, and then left.
I only lasted for a couple of minutes.
Some days I think about what the world would be like if you hadn’t come as a hurricane.
If you hadn’t destroyed every ounce of my self-confidence… self-determination...
If you came as a monsoon, or a tsunami… both similar, yet with different lasting effects.
Instead you chose a severe storm, a high wind.
The effects on me, you never bother to figure out, because you’re too busy being unhappy yourself.
You see me, right? I moved on.
So why can’t you?

“How do I get out of this Labyrinth of suffering?”
“Straight and fast.”
“Forgive”

There’s never really an answer.

I met you.
Friends, yeah. That’s how it started out.

But friends… almost never stay “just friends” forever.

Think about it.

Kindergarten. You thought they would be there by your side forever.

Junior High. A giant wake up call. Those people you thought you knew? They aren’t the same.

High School. New people. A new chapter. Okay, great. Make friends. Make promises you can’t keep.

Now.


Things complicated themselves in a way I would have never imagined.

I looked at you the same way I always did.

You were my best friend. You told me things that made me realize that life… it’s not so beautiful. I stayed awake every night. Wondering if you were going to live to see the next day, to see me. Wondering if I would be the last person you told:

“I love you, past Pluto”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”
“I promise.”
Or
“I never meant to hurt you.”

Well you did. It was never the kind of physical hurt that left you in agony for only a few hours. No, this was an emotional hurt. The kind that left you scared, worried, anxious. The kind that knew it was all your fault. That knew you were the reason they hated themselves, the reason they wanted to die.

Yeah, that kind of hurt runs deeper.

So I sat there everyday. Not able to focus, not able to think about anyone but you.

And then…


Bam.

You hit me with news that I didn’t know what to do with. So I told. I told her everything. It’s not like I could keep it piled up. I would have drowned. Both mentally, and physically. Yeah, you didn’t realize it. But it was that bad.

Well, it’s not like I told her everything. She figured out most of it.

And after, I felt awful. Like I broke a promise. I’m pretty sure I did, but at least I told someone whom I knew you trusted also. It was a heck of a lot better to have someone to talk to about everything. Someone else that I knew would try her hardest to understand.

See my problem? Of course not. I haven’t told you everything.

The news. Right. How could I forget?

You told me you loved me. Not the “you’re-my-best-friend” type of way, but the “I-want-to-date-you” type of way.

So here’s a question. What do you do when your best friend:

1) Self harms (sometimes because of you)
2) Loves you. Like, really loves you.

My answer: I don’t know.

You think I have all the answers. But I don’t.

I don’t know why you self harm.
I don’t know why you love me.
I don’t know how to make things better.
I don’t know why you’re so upset.
I don’t know what to do.

I love you. I’ve told you that before. But not the way you love me.

“It’s not the same.” You say.

I know it’s not. And I feel worse and worse every day because it’s not the same. I know it hurts you.

I don’t want to hurt you.

There’s my problem.

Back to the labyrinth.

Straight and fast: There’s no way that’s happening. I’d **** both of us in the process. You, because you would never know how much you mean to me. How responsible I feel for you. How much I love you. You would never know.
Me, because I’d **** you. And because of that, I’d have to go.

Forgive: That’s not the answer, in my case. Who do I forgive here? I can’t forgive myself. Because I’m the reason you hate living. I can’t forgive you. You’ve done nothing wrong.

So when asked the question:

“How do I get out of this labyrinth of suffering?”

My answer is simple.

“There is no way out.”

Idyllic love poems wander the hills
with a pining goat herd playing his pipe
and singing mournful song
echoing down the quartz sculpted gorge
beneath waterfalls
where alabaster-skinned Naiads
lithe and languorous
bathed in crystal brooks.

Romantic poems lounge on sofas breathless  
wearing corsets and crinolines
desperate
and untouched
*******
strands of hair

   John Donne’s love poems
are wet
  with wit.

I watch as the days decay you,
as every inch closer  
makes you that much farther away.
It wasn't too easy with you
and it isn't so easy now with someone else.

The tips of your fingers were halfway out the door,
the bottom of your heels were close to the clouds
I knew you were never coming back to us.

This life is just a mis-categorized movie in a netflix cue.
Not exactly what you expected, but has some potential.

The beds where we lay our heads at night
could so soon turn into our coffins
and I often imagine a world where
stars are our only home
and death is just an alternate route back.

We cling to these feelings.
And if John Green can turn it into
something seemingly beautiful
why can't I?
Maybe because this is real life,
and this life comes with no storyline that's written
it takes more days than I have hands
and more thought than I have love in my heart
so I wonder why we find beauty in tragedy
and entertainment in things we don't suffer through.

We all feed off of the story lines and the drama,
the death and the heartbreak
because it makes it all seem interesting and worth it
when in reality,
no matter how much we say we want to be happy-
we're all just looking for a chance to feel something.

John Green made me sad in the best possible way...

So thanks

Augustus,who taught me to love people no matter what.

Hazel,for showing me we are all beautiful.

Alaska,for saying its okay to be a bit mischievous.

Pudge,for proving that you don't have to have millions of friends to feel loved.

The Coronel, for teaching me to believe in myself,no matter where I had come from.

Colin,for my eureka moment.

Both Will Graysons,for showing me is okay to not know exactly who you are.

And every character in Paper Towns,who just made me really happy.

But lastly and most importantly I'd like to thank John Green,because you made my life a better place with your books, and for that I'm forever greatful