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| his kiss still burns, harder than your words but not as deep as your lips. and not as much as the vodka. his words still burn, harder than your apologies, but less than your sentiments. my throat burns from speaking of you from crying from knowing that unrequited is the most sincere love because if it doesnt hurt than it doesnt exist. why else pinch ourselves to figure if we are awake because breathing is terrifying and life is painful until the kiss of a stranger takes the hurt of rejection lies heartache solitary confinement in a duo into the realm of a possible rebirth i hate that i believed you but i hate me more for becoming so swallowed up in a wave of your bullshit i hate myself for letting him make his move and wanting it so badly to feel what it is ive been missing the love of a stranger versus the love and loathe of my life. i despise you and i despise your indifference so im leaving both. | | |
| sometimes people come back together just to fall apart. love glue is sticky, but its not industrial strength. and if it cant hold through hard times, changes, or even the simplest of differences, its as useless as using spit to stick two things together. then youre just spitting at eachother, which is kind of what it feels like anyway. only by spitting i mean yelling. and by yelling i mean silence. | | |
| There was a time I would hve died for you, and a time came when I was certain a part of me had died by losing you But i never lost you for you cant lose something that you never had you are not my car keys or a fleeting moment marred by dimly lit memories and illusions that had three years to transform into fond memories you are what is lost and i am too tired too jaded too indifferent too old: for these games of hide and; seek and youll only find disappointment. i know all your best kept corners and i choose to keep the sash over my eyes and refrain from counting to infinity-mississippi as it only takes me twelve seconds to make it to the door. | | |
| I cant hear whats on the TV even though the volume is all the way up. Ive thrown up an innumerable amount of times today, which isnt rare only I dont feel any better afterwards. (And no im not bulimic) As soon as I decided not to care, it hit me in the face like walking blindly into oncoming traffic. It isnt me, its him. I know this. But hidden in that infinite wisdom lies the question of how can one possibly think it really isnt ME. Im not pretty or funny or charming or intelligent to even warrant an explanation? No, of course not, but in the quiet distance of the nights when the friends have gone home and I can no longer busy myself with mundane life-ities, these are the thoughts that keep me rolling from my side of the bed. Is he unaware there were two people involved? His prick to sincerity ratio was pretty even, all things considered, and its very safe to say I didnt see this one coming, which is probably why it hurts. And by hurts I mean makes me want to throw things, Greek-Style. I feel so destined to fail at this point I no longer want to put myself out there. Because he was the first person which allowed me to let my guard down in almost a year, and his response was to take it and run, after trampling on it and putting it into a blender with his protein shake. I feel so lost. Im so much stronger than this, I wish he could have at least stuck around long enough to learn that. | | |
| I only starte a blog because I needed to write more. And my handwriting sucks, and sometimes typing is just easier. And now, looking through what ive written, and still being the only one who reads it, im fine with that. But im still putting it out there. ...This fucking blows. We are supposed to learn from mistakes and regrets and all that bullshit, and some lessons are harder to learn than others. Ive never, EVER been that girl, and the truth is, at the moment it happened, I still didnt want to be that girl. But something in me attached myself to him and I thought that it was genuine. And now, having been discarded like a piece of Thanksgiving leftovers found weeks later rotting in the corner, I feel nothing but remorse. True, Ive learned. Ive learned to be angrier than I was before ... Ive learned that I just cant handle not being held afterwards and not being doted on. If its going to happen, it should at least be good, no? And it was terrible. Being disconnected from someone while being literally physically attached is quite possibly one of the most baffling conundrums ive ever encountered. I didnt even know it was possible until it actually happened. Feeling little more than distance while being the closest possible to another human being, feeling millions of miles away and losing so much in a matter of minutes is something im still trying to wrap my head around. Not blaming myself isnt an option, and as much analyzing of the situation and beating myself up over something isn't going to change a damn thing. But I continue to do it. It plays over in my head like a peep show where I need to insert a quarter to watch my own demise, until it plays itself out because Ive put everything into it with no reward. I really believed him, and I realize now it was only because I wanted to. Ive never felt this way and I never want to again. I realize my over reaction to the situation is inevitable, and by now I should know myself better than to think I could have fooled myself. I was duped by him and by me. The only difference is he can walk away and I am left with me and the downward spiral. Dammit. Its not that I havent heard from him, but now what ... Now ill continue to play the part with him of the girl who could care less, and this downward spiral will easily morph into a full blown plummit down the slope im slowly trying to climb. | | |
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