I can’t tell you why, or what, or how, because honestly - I don’t know. All I can tell you is with some songs, some movies, some television shows, some books…my breath catches in my throat and I can’t move, I can’t think…I just feel. And it hurts. I’ll curl into a ball, shuffle down further beneath the covers, and cry. For seconds; for hours. I just cry. I watch the red numbers on my clock flash and change, just waiting for my body to give in - but it never does. I lie awake all night, just thinking, retracing my steps, over-analyzing, second-guessing, and imagining all the different ways things could have played out. And I don’t sleep. Not until my mind has exhausted every single possibility, and needs to give in to the human need for sleep. And the next night, this pattern will repeat. It seems I feel just fine until darkness falls over my pillow. Until darkness fills my eyes, and all that is left to see are my fantasies.
Love happens. Love is love, no matter what kind. You can love someone without being with them - that’s called friendship. Sometimes the love runs so deep, that no matter what roads you take, no matter what goes wrong, no matter the amount of fights, and tears, and anger - you just can’t shake them - that’s a best friend.
You’re on my mind, and I’ve never been so sure of anything as I am of this. I still love you. Is that enough?
Inspired during a marathon Facebook creeping session, due to a picture and accompanying caption on my ex-boyfriend’s page. …True Life: I am a Facebook Creeper
The grass was greener, and yet
unkempt, but that did not deter you.
You crossed over the fence and left me
waiting, watching from the other side.
Our fingers, twisted together around
the metal, were burning against the
chain-link—scorching hot from the summer
sun, but I didn’t want to let go.
I held on tighter as you struggled
to break free, and fought against the
heat and your loosening grip as you finally
slipped through my fingers.
That greener, unkempt grass swallowed you
whole, and I was forced to watch, helpless
from the other side, my fingers melting into the
sun-soaked metal holding me back from you.
Lately I’ve been trying to find a way to capture moments without missing them. But I spend so long trying to find the right words or the right lighting or the right focus, and in the mayhem, I lose sight of the details I desperately want to cling to.
I need to face the fact that sometimes, words are not enough, no matter how carefully chosen or skillfully arranged. Sometimes, it takes more than words to get the things you’re after.
The sky is alive with lightning, and the thunder rolls within my chest. I’m watching puddles form along the pavement, tiny rivers running through the cracks and I feel more alive now than I have in ages. Its as if the storm is washing away the heavy feeling in my soul and giving way to a brighter tomorrow.
Why is it that everyone else can do something and have it be perfectly fine, but I go to do it and suddenly, it isn’t okay? Apparently I am the rule and everyone else is the exception. What on Earth could I have done to make myself such an outcast from the rest of the world?
I wish I knew the right combination of words to bring you back to me.