Post with 2 notes
It’s over; it’s done. There’s nothing I could have done to keep you. There’s nothing I could have done to make you mine. Instead, I sat there, trying to convey my thoughts and feelings, even after you’ve told me you “love” me.
How badly I wanted to tell you, if you loved me, you wouldn’t leave the other one’s torn clothing lying around, their toothbrush on the sink, their scent on your pillow. You wouldn’t pretend like it was okay. You wouldn’t even let it get that far. You can’t love me, if you’re so willing to pick up a bigger, bolder, better relationship than ours. You can’t tell me you love me, that you care about me so much, “more than you wanted to or expected to,” if you’re going to turn around and fuck someone else and make more time for them than for me. For “us.” But we were never “us,” were we?
I love you. More than I wanted to, more than I expected to. It’s this beautiful, painful, tragic love like the reflection of moonlight on the ocean. A gleam that is twinkling in the night, but gone by dawn. This love, like the tragedy of a raging wildfire taking over the entire mountainside, but only that one side. A kind of love that makes me realize just how broken and desperate I am.
I should have never admitted to it, I should have never let myself show through to you. I should have never let myself down. I should have never met you, should have never let you touch me on our first date, should have never gone to you when I was scared or sad. I should have never gripped you in the night to keep me warm and safe, pinned against the wall and your blankets. I should have never agreed that it was “okay” for you to see other people, if you really wanted to.
I started some bullshit “friends with benefits” situation that makes me feel awful. I need affection and loyalty in my life, in my relationships. These things, I can’t have. Not from anyone. Not from a single relationship I’ve had.
I’m just so happy nobody knows me.
Not even you.
Post with 1 note
Sickly yearning for your depravity. I don’t want to be hurt, I just want your pain. I can’t resist. I can’t say ‘no.’ Late at night, my arms hardly touching your soft, speckled back I whisper “I love you” into your skin, knowing you can’t hear me.
When I couldn’t sleep, I sat up wrapped in your scent, lighting and breathing in each paper chimney until it burned my fingers. I smoked, and smoked, and smoked, and thought, these deep, nervous thoughts that drove myself deeper into my brain.
I suddenly felt myself holding back from pushing the cigarette into my skin. I don’t know where this sudden urge comes from, this desire. But it’s becoming overwhelming. I hear the door begin to roll open and I’m back in reality. I look at you, but immediately avoid eye contact.
I can feel myself shaking. Trying to remain as myself. I try to remain logical, and open. But the thought of you openly treating someone else the way you treat me makes my body quake. It makes me dizzy and nauseous.
I’ve told you now that I love you. And I was serious. I do, I really do love you. I never expected you to tell me the same.
But I’m afraid of what kind of love you have for me… It’s not fair, to lead me on like this and to continuously remind me that you are not mine and don’t want to be.
I love you, even when that blade is in my hand and even when my face is hovering above the toilet when my thoughts have become so overwhelming that it has made me physically sick. I love you even though this isn’t the first time this has happened. I love you though you avoided me for a month for the other ones. I love you even though I know I’ll never be what you want. I love you even though I know I’m not enough for you, and I love you even though you make that clear to me.
You told me you loved me too, and I really hope you meant it. In the dark blankets of my sadness, that was a strong light that I’m only hoping doesn’t turn out to be a fire hazard.
Though, even if you burned me alive, I would still love you.
Page 1 of 888