I love you.
Okay there,
I said it.
You happy?
I love you.
I haven’t stopped.
Ever since that day in my car.
The grace of your hand on mine.
When there’s silence,
It’s not uncomfortable.
We fit together.
Like puzzle pieces,
Like a pb and j.
Like two halves of a heart.
You know I would do anything for you right?
Having a mental breakdown at 3 am,
I’ll hop in my car.
Having a code red at school,
I’ll skip for you.
And you know what a code red means,
Because we made up a whole secret language.
Our own secret language that only we know.
I know your favourite colour.
I know your up’s and down’s.
When your happy,
And when your sad.
I know your passion in life,
And I know your scared to go for it.
I know these things,
Because I love you.

I love you,
Like how you love the moon.
I love you,
Like how you love a foggy forest in the morning.
I love you,
Like how you love your coffee.
I love the imperfect side of you.
The side you find hard to love.
I love your messy hair.
I love your scars.
I love your insecurities

Because I love you.

I don’t think love is supposed to be how it’s portrayed.
You know where they live happily ever after.
Where the broken girl finds her true love.
Finds the person that completes her.
Where she stands on one side,
And him on the other.
They share a look of regret.
They feel as though they’re missing a piece of their heart,
And that the piece lives in the other.
So, they do the unimaginable.
They kiss in a parking lot in the pouring rain.
Unimaginable, right?
With their clothes drench,
Their lips meet,
And for a while, time stops.
In that moment, all that is happening is that kiss.
But I have never experienced that.
Or heard of that.
So, is it a lie?
Because the love that I am familiar with,
The love that I have seen and felt,
Is more broken then happy.
It has more pain than joy.
It doesn’t involve kissing in a parking lot.
But maybe it’s just me.
Maybe I’m missing out.
But all I know,
Is that love isn’t portrayed on how it really is.

laying in a hospital bed.
gown drawn to my toes.
a small ****** box tv stuffed away in the corner.
all sick and pale.
tissues and chocolate pudding flooding the side table.
i have tubes running through my veins.
******* the life out of me,
isn’t exactly pretty, is it?

would you sit by my bed?
would you sit for hours on end playing endless card games?
or would you do what everyone else does?
run away.
freaked out, scared.
running away from the problem.
from the thing that causes them stress.
causes them to spiral,
to break down.
i am that thing.
so with all this weighing on you,
like bricks on your shoulders,
would you visit me?

it was that night.
it ****** me over for months.
a spur of the moment decision found us on top of a mountain.
no one to find us.
no one to disturb us.
it was me and her.
alone.
the gentle touch of her hand
so soft.
so supple.
it felt right.
for me at least.
there wasn’t a forcefulness.
we connected.
just like that.
i felt at peace with her.
even in the silence,
i was present with her.
i wanted to be in the same space as her.
i wanted to know her.
to hold her hand.
to mean something to her.
i wanted to hug her and never let go.
because she makes me feel like everything will be okay.

but that was before.
i’m not exactly sure why i told her.
i just complicate things when i open my mouth.
of course she doesn’t feel the same way.
why would she?
who would?

sadly having attachment issues,
those feelings didn’t go away.
i still want to hold her hand.
to mean something to her.
to know her.
kiss her.
she makes my problems go away.
just her existence is enough to make me smile.
so as she’s living her life,
handling her feelings to someone else,
i’m left scattered like broken glass.
faking a smile when i see her,
avoiding my feelings when i talk to her.
because i cannot be scattered even more.

So...

                                                          Why do you live life in the shadows?

The world isn’t made for people like me.
So, I’d rather be no one then someone.

                                                       ­             What if you could be someone?

What difference does it make.
It’s never going to happen anyways.

                              So, you keep your head low and stay clear of others?

Exactly.
No risk of judgement, of pain.

                                                          ­                                       But is that life?
                                                           ­   Is life supposed to be without risk?

Honestly, I wish it was.

all good things come to an end.
i understand that now.
nothing lasts forever.
everything has an ending as much as we don’t want it to.
my favourite co worker will quit and find a better job,
those late nights with them will end.
the person i stay up ‘til 3 am will stop texting me.
my soulmate will find someone else,
someone better.
my childhood will turn into adulthood.
but we all have to come to terms with it.
the end of it.
the end.

why bother having my notifications on.
it’s not like anyone will reach out.
it’s not like my phone will light up.
awn does that make you sad?
what, i’m just telling you how it is.
if you got a problem with it, why don’t you fix it?
“people do reach out though,”
okay, who?
cause i ain’t getting the texts if someone is.
“don’t say that about yourself,”
why not?
it’s the truth.
why should i have my notifications on,
if no one will notify me?
there’s no point.
if that’s sad to you,
well then fix it.
text me then.
because i’m sick of doing your work for you.
you're an adult,
pull up your big girl pants and put in actual work for a friendship,
do your part.
i’m done.
i’ll let you feel what i have been feeling,
you probably won’t because it wouldn’t cross your mind.
if now you think you should text me,
well you're too late.
don't care.
don’t care if now you're trying,
you should’ve been trying a long time ago.
this is the real world babe,
no sugar coating,
no hand holding,
no gentle parenting here.
either do your part,
or leave.
so i guess you're leaving.