things that come to mind. vague stuff

possible tw: implied self-harm

— june 23

• (𝟔) i see parallels to us in every love story / i do miss you, because it feels like you're the only one who'd understand (𝟕) stupidly fond / "california, don't you know the sun is only a god, if you learn to starve for her?" (𝟖) i care, i care, i care. this goes beyond us. i care. (𝟗) why not me? do, mi, ti. (𝟏𝟔) scared shitless (𝟏𝟕) "i just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way." (𝟏𝟖) i've come to the haunting conclusion that there is nothing in the world that you could do to me that i would consider unforgivable. people might warn me about you; might pull me away from you, but deep in my heart, you'll always be forgiven. you'll always be forgiven. (𝟏𝟗) found myself scared at the prospect of you talking to me again. that's how i realized i could never love you like you deserve (𝟐𝟎) i hate wasted potential- that shit crushes your spirit, it really does, it crushes your soul / repeated sign: versailles (𝟐𝟐) dead. rest in peace. / repeated sign: suddenly everybody has your new lover's name. universe's taunt. / anhedonia (𝟐𝟑) just how much of me did you take away with you? (𝟐𝟗) waiting for a day where i feel fine so i can tell you how much you mean to me (the day never comes and you're leaving)

— july 23

• (𝟏) lifeless (𝟑) sometimes i wish we were on different dimensions. i hate sharing this earth with you. (𝟓) filled with so much love for you it's bursting. it's domestic, it's delicate, you're home. i want you to be my home forever. (𝟏𝟎) i will admit, i'd let you have me if we were alone; if no one was looking, if we both forgot about it on the next day. but that's just another mundane detail about our lives. we know that. (𝟏𝟐) exhaustion, antipathy, resignation; hoping the same old formula will work out this time; hoping i love myself enough to get through this (𝟏𝟔) what do you do with yourself when everyone has someone else they'd choose over you? what does that do to your self worth? / it hurts less now, however. it hurts less. / bringing a smile to your face eases this pain— whatever this is. (𝟐𝟑) we can go wherever you like / cathartic embarrassment (worth it worth it worth it?) (𝟐𝟗) always hopeful about the next time; always hopeful about trying again

— august 23

• (𝟒) i mumble another goodbye to you, the one i never conquered. i enjoy being at your service (𝟓) an exercise in humanity? humility? or some other word / universe's taunt (𝟏𝟎) proud-filled with recognition of the dignity in loving true and choosing it despite wounds and the challenges of the craggily wilderness of the world (𝟏𝟔) i leave my bed and i tell you to wait a minute, i'm making my famously bad coffee. you make me want to stay awake and alive / let's not get weird, okay? let's not get weird. (𝟏𝟕) i am trying to love the world in a way that might matter (𝟐𝟑) unspoken rule: we don't talk to one another about grief. (𝟐𝟒) ...beyond repair (𝟐𝟓) relapsing into her is just another blade on your skin, except it doesn't leave a scar. it's just another lonely afternoon, except your pillow is wet with tears. (𝟐𝟕) go easy on me, firefly, and i'll go easy on you. be kind to me and i'll give it back to you; twice as sweet. / the seventeen year old in me chants, and you're probably with that blonde girl (𝟐𝟗) and there's this violent urge to break down and cry and cry and cry and cry until everyone gets uncomfortable unsettled disgusted and leave me crying and crying and crying and crying / weren't we the stars in the heaven? weren't we the salt in the sea? dragon in the new warm mountain - didn't you believe in me?

— september 23

• (𝟓) i wish i could explain to someone - anyone - what it is like to live like this. with nothing. (𝟏𝟎) plain sadness. the kind you can't write poetry about. the kind that makes you think about chemicals. i tell myself that you being here wouldn't make anything any better, even though i know it would. (𝟏𝟓) i thought we were meant for something bigger than the mundane; i daydreamed about laying my head on your shoulder at the train, i wondered what perfume you'd wear for me. i'm too proud to let you be the one to end this. i left first. (𝟏𝟗) and she talks so brightly, as if carefully crafting sentences will make me able to bear witness to the blinding beauty of her soul; it's unknown to her that no man can ever look at what she is without a light burning their eyes, it's unknown to her how beautiful her existence is. but i let her speak, and she lets me listen, thank god that she lets me listen, and i allow myself to take glimpses at her, allow myself to love with no rush. i pretend that one day i'll be able to have her whole. (𝟐𝟐) today, you asked me the question we're both afraid of. i'm tired of this house. i'm tired of us tiptoeing around death. / i'm tired of leaning against walls and crying (𝟐𝟔) i'm doing what i want and damn i'm doing it well (for me) / there's a knock on my door she opens it she asks why i'm sobbing and i say heartbreak. she closes the door

— october 23

• (𝟒) and i don't want to sound pretentious but you told me this yourself — you know i was the one who taught you how to love. i caught you by your hand and showed you what it was like to slow dance and i laughed as you stepped on my foot; i showed you lyrics that spelled out love like nothing else ever could— and now you're using everything i gave you to love someone else. i'm still learning how to deal with that. i don't know when the healing begins. (𝟗) there's a boy who greets me with a roll of his eyes and a smile every time he sees me. a bump on my shoulder, a teasing statement he makes up on the spot— i know he can see the melancholic streak that goes right through me. when we're alone, he asks me what it's like, and i'm afraid to tell him, because i don't want his pity, and telling people about The Pain feels like i'm making them go through it themselves. i want laughter and i want friendship and i want to be seem as something that isn't this sickness. (𝟏𝟓) teacher's day — you're still the sweetest girl i know. i wish i could put flowers in your hair. do you think about me from time to time? i cried when i read "ps. i love you" in your impeccably pretty handwriting in that old, old letter. my wallet carried the polaroid you gave me for six years. ps. i still love you, too. in that way. in any way. you're not in my mind often, but when you are, i dare to dream. i am sorry for that night in late december. (𝟏𝟗) you can get me to do anything by saying but isn't it beautiful? it triggers a ticklish feeling in my brain that says back yes, everything is, everything can be. (𝟐𝟗) i miss you, i tell my bedroom walls, i miss you, it echoes back. the lie which cushions my fall every night.

— november 23

• (𝟓) i wish i could take care of you - just be safe, don't fall for pessimistic views and. i might not have all the answers, but i'm here. always here. i'll help you feel your way through. (𝟖) looking at you now is like staring at television static — nothing of substance is shown; the loud noises bother me and i stumble around to find the remote so i can turn it off. sitting alone in an empty living room doesn't feel terrifying anymore since i realized that the world isn't ending because we did. it isn't going anywhere. we ended and i started. i don't care if you ate all your meals today and i couldn't make out your face if i tried (i don't want to try). i forgot your sister's name. the universe feels foggy; begging me to navigate through the clouds, and i will. not looking back. (𝟐𝟎) is it wrong that i don't want an apology? that i want you to sit on your throne while i walk away, pride shattered and scared of the next time we inevitably meet? is it wrong that i find that better than together again? is it wrong that sometimes i look at what we built and what i see is a relationship based on circumstance? i wish you the very, very best. but i don't see us going anywhere anymore. (𝟐𝟐) i know this is not the place where i should be looking for shelter, yet here i am. a step closer to death every time i let myself inside. (𝟐𝟖) you're different you're different in the sense that you're making it clear that you want to stay i'm almost overwhelmed by you and i'm so thankful that i can still let myself feel after everything (𝟐𝟗) five years ago today we'd both be wide awake at 4am, asking each other have you eaten already?, sitting on our couches, miles apart, without a care in the world. skipping school, focused on each other, and glad we were still friends. i wish we were still friends.

— december 23

• (𝟒) the two of you: sunlight. (𝟔) i came, a gentle hill racer (𝟏𝟒) of course it's all my fault- i can't deny it anymore. i'm scared, paralyzed and deeply hurt. the thought of going back to normalcy makes me want to vomit (you're scared of a world where you're needed) (𝟏𝟗) you destroy me just by living your own life. it's unfair. the fault is mine, this time. i'm just hurting myself on purpose, this time. (𝟐𝟎) when i'm down i'm down and that's that. (𝟐𝟐) still loving you even when you're up high and unreachable. i'm looking up at you as if you're a star.