you don’t do it on purpose but you make me shake.
It’s surreal writing again. Once I stop, it feels impossible to begin again. Words that use to come so easily, rarely come to me anymore. I still have this urge to write a book, but no motivation. For now, I think I’ll just post some pictures and random stuff that I enjoy, and hope that eventually words will come to me.
well hey there unforgettable.
lets go back three years, shall we?
back to the late night phone calls and the cheating.
back to all the lies and the heartbreak.
it never really stopped, did it?
you were my first. my first everything.
my first, living, breathing, cliche.
and i just loved everything about you, about us.
there’s always going to be something about you that pulls me in, no doubt.
there’s always going to be lost words and untold feelings when i leave.
and as much as I wish I could move on, delete you from my phonebook, i know better….
you are as much part of me as my own breathing.
i am not in love with you…but i think i love you. I always have.
i don’t honestly know what love is….but I care.
I care who you’re with, if you’re safe, if you are going to turn out ok.
I care if you are going to turn out to be the guy I always knew you could be.
and sometimes my caring, it’s too much for me too handle.
We fight, and I apologize. In reality, all my apologies are fake. They are always in hope that you will return my feelings. They are in hopes that you will one day apologize for everything you’ve done to me. You’ve ruined me, and I’ve let you. My sense of trust is shattered, and my sense of belonging is skewed. I say the things to you, that in my dreams you are whispering to me. Oh what a complicated web we weave. I just wish you would stop, either pushing me away or pulling me in.
I just…want back in your head.
Mostly because…you’re always in mine.
Drip. Drop. Pitter. Patter. Nothing can express my mood right now as much as the rain outside. The dull, dreary emotion that consumes you once you see it. The drained, lulling sensation once you feel it hit you so lightly on your hair, your hands, your entire body. Ever since coming back from Atlanta it’s as if time has stood still. Nothing in this town has changed, and yet I have. I have come back this new person, and have no desire to return to who I used to be. Yet it seems inevitable. This town, who it makes me be is undesirable: a bitch, a drunk, a slut. It makes me want to rebel, makes me want to scream. I do anything to push the limits, to make myself and this town a bit more bearable. I really just need to scream, and to have somebody hear me. I need somebody to understand, or to at least try. Tonight driving home was difficult. I wanted to keep going, to turn up my music louder and never stop. I thought about myself, my relationships, my failed attempts at erasing memories that were created here. So here I am, pouring my heart out to nobody. Saying these words that only make sense to me. I’m this jumbled up mess and I wish I could count on myself to change things, to make it okay again. But it seems these days I can’t. Will you be my escape?
none of this matters though. it will not matter in a hundred years whether someone was dissatisfied with the series of motions that occurred this week or this month or year. it will not matter whether or not the position of different objects, all catching types of light, made this space negative. its all relative, and i will decompose and i will not matter.