Sometimes, at night, I think of you. I listen to a song and it takes me back to these old times. It seems like it was ages ago and we were best friends and I felt like I mattered. I guess all that's messed up now, all of it is just memories and regrets. And I think to myself: why the hell does it still hurts like that?! It hurts because it was real. I guess it was, for me at least. I wanted to save you, because if I could save you, then I could save myself. But none of that happened. I destroyed you and you ruined me. It felt like I'd fought World War III on my own with my bare hands. It felt like nothing could ever matter anymore. Nothing could be important. Nothing could save me. Not myself. Not anyone. To be honest, it still feels like that. A bit. I feel empty and numb and I don't love you anymore but the thought of you being alive and not needing me in your life stings like a motherfucking beehive was dropped on my head. You needing me meant I mattered. I was worth something. I was someone. And now, I don't know. Who I am or where I'm going. I feel like I've lost it. I don't write anymore. So what am I really? I feel loved and cherished and admired and fuck I've got everything I need in life. But it still feels like a piece of me was taken and torn and burnt and whatever you did to that part of me. That part that was so intense. That loved the cold and the brokenness of things. That wanted to fix things and try to make them pretty. I wish that piece of me could come back. I wish everything were different. And the same. Because who would I be if I hadn't gotten my heart so broken? And where would I be? And there're to many questions in my head tonight. I just wish you would read this. Or maybe not. Fuck.
I'm tired of telling you I'm sorry. Because, really, I'm not sorry at all. I'm not sorry for being in love with you and getting pissed at you every time I get drunk. You know, most times I get drunk just to escape my mind. My messy little mind that reminds me how good we could be. How real it could feel. My mind that does everything it can to forget you have a girlfriend. That analyzes every word you say and interprets them in a way that screams that you love me, too. So yeah, I get drunk. And when I'm drunk, I'm messy. What am I saying: I AM MESSY. And I get even messier when I drink. And I get pissed at you. Yeah, I really do. I'm here, chilling and drinking and suddenly, I'm somewhere else entirely, getting all angry at you, boiling inside. And I decided to be an honest person. So, in all honesty, I tell you just how much you make me angry. Just how much I wish I never fell in love with you. How much I wish I never dared to kiss you. To want you. Oh, and how much I'm mad that you let me. Because you have a girlfriend after all. But still, you let me. Hell, you kissed me as much as I kissed you. I promised that I would try to be simple. Because I am so fucking complicated and messy and angry. But I try. I try to be simple, very, very hard, every single day. But with you... Things don't just get to be simple. Because I am so in love with you. Because I want you so bad. And because you just don't. You made me believe for a second that you wanted me, too. And then you crushed me. You said "everything is simple to me". And I heard "everything is simple without you". I know, right, everything is always simple without me, because I'm the complicated mess. It's true. I'm no easy girl. Never been. Never will be. I don't even want to be the easy girl. I like being challenging. And maybe I thought you were ready for a challenge. But I've realized now that maybe, you're not. Maybe you need easy and simple and a girl that just smiles and shuts the fuck up. You'll regret it someday, though. When you realize I've slipped through your fingers like fresh water. I won't be in love with you forever. And when I'm finally free...
I cry for the man to whom I was everything. The man I decided to turn my back to. Because he loved me more than I loved myself and I couldn't understand why. So why do I always fuck up things like that? Why do I run away when I'm told that I'm the one? Probably because I'm in a serious relationship with my own self-destruction.
I cry for the guy who wants me but doesn't. The guy that sees me as a mystery. That doesn't get me. That I probably scare a little. Because he's not used to seeing someone being so messed up.
Oh, and I also cry for the guy I used to love. The guy I used to know. The guy I try to hold onto, even though he's not there anymore. Even though I watched him drift away from me, slowly, years ago. It's like he died and somebody replaced him. It's like we're strangers. How can we be strangers?
I'd never really thought about what leaving someone does to you. I never really had to. But now, I'm faced with the consequences of that decision everyday. I don't know what to think of it. I'm sad but I don't feel allowed to. I should not be sad, right? I decided to run away. Literally. But hey, I still wake up at night and cry because I did it. I left. I made that decision. I broke a heart. I didn't look behind. I just... Left... I don't even remember. Did we kiss? Did we hug? Did I leave the warm feeling of my embrace on your body? Or was everything cold and broken? It all feels a million miles away. I got on that plane, never to return again. I made that decision. To not look back. To run away. To get the fuck out. Will it ever feel like that was the right decision? Or will it always like me, fleeing, and you, heartbroken? Will it always feel like treason? Because we used to be happy. I remember those days. We were reckless and happy and in love and everything in the world felt right. I remember the warmth of these days. The way the light would fall on you. The way you made me feel like I was everything anyone could ever wish for. I remember. Sometimes I wish I didn't. But I do. I'll probably always remember. It felt like a permanent summer. But now I'm cold with sorrow.
I spend so much time waiting. Waiting for you to call me. Or text me. Waiting to gather the courage to ask the question that's been on my mind for days. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for something to happen. Anything, really, but something. I feel myself getting old as the minutes go by. I feel myself running out of time. To love you. To be myself. It'll all be over, soon. The memories will remain. And the longing. And the ashes of what we could have been. Because everything burns, right? Even you and I.
When you ask what's going on in my love life, do you really expect me to say that everything's great? Or are you just asking to make sure I'm still in love with you? Because, yeah, I'm still in love with you. You know, I wish I could make it all go away, blink and forget you. But I can't. You're the first person I think of when I wake, and the last when I fall asleep. You're the one I think about when I'm drunk. Or just happy. Or really sad. You're the one I wish I would see more often. You're the one I miss. And all of this. All of this isn't going away. Not today, not tomorrow, maybe never. Unrequited love is the worst. It's not like it didn't work out. No, it just didn't happen and you're just left here wondering: would it have been good? How happy could we have been? So, it's not going away. You're not going away. You're always here, in the back of my mind, and every time I envision something new, you come back with fierce.
I hope you change your mind someday. I hope I'll matter to you someday. Like you matter to me right now. And I hope that when you do, I'll still be waiting for you.
I'm at a crossroad. You know, the kind that gets you thinking: "what the hell is my next move?" Well, I don't fucking know. Because there's someone I love and someone I used to love and it's all messed up in my head and I wonder if you think about me the way I think about you and I know I could never ask. But I really want to know. I really want to know if your skin tingles the way mine does when we touch? Do I creep in your head at night? Because you do, in a weird way. And when I'm with you, I feel alive, I feel myself. But I shouldn't feel that way, because this is the past, and the past can't haunt me forever. But still. I think of you.
You know that you should let go. You know that you have to let go before it consumes you entirely. You know it. But you can't seem to let go. You can't seem to stop dreaming that things will change and people will change and things will be okay. But that's never how the story ends. The story ends when you let go of the fire that devours your soul.
Whatever it is. Whatever it takes. Let go of the fire.
You know how you always imagine how things will be? How people will act towards you? How you're going to pick up the pieces of yourself? Well, things never turn out the way you think they will. Reality always hits harder than you're ready for. One day you're someone, and the next, you're an entirely different person - the reflection of yourself in the mirror looks like a stranger. There's this part of me that wants to fight. That urges to. And then there's the one I've let myself become. I'm running away. Never facing myself. Drinking my way out of reality. Smoking to make my brain dizzy. But some nights are still crystal clear. And I can see the fighter in the mirror, telling me to stop running, to turn around, and to fight dirty, like I'm supposed to. Because if reality wants to stab me, I might as well take the blow from the front. I'm no runner.
I got lost in the in-betweens. I lost my trail of thought and somehow, I lost myself. I couldn't figure out if I wanted to be what you wanted me to be or if I was good enough. I still don't know. Am I good enough? I stood there in the wake of everything we'd done to each other. Not knowing which mangled parts were yours or mine.
I'm pretty sure I must've stepped on your heart somewhere in the battle. Did you feel the pain? Does it still hurt like a bad scar that won't go away?
It seemed like a betting game. Will she stay or will she go? Flip a coin maybe you'll know.
I wish you didn't speak or cry. I wish everything had remained silent. Still. The sun rising in the distance. Illuminating the wreck that we'd become. Pointing out every damn reason to go home.
It all seems so bittersweet. And I'm home. And I'm so afraid to fall in love. I can feel myself falling so slowly. And I'm very scared.