Hey girls! So I know I haven’t posted in the last few days and I’m sorry for that. I had a slight family emergency situation butttt everythings good now. (: This is tonight’s post and I will have a new post tomorrow too. However, my next post after that won’t be until Sunday because I will be on vacation until then. Again, I am so sorry for this and I understand that it is upsetting, please just bear with me! ❤

Listen to this, you’ll never be the person you were before it happened. Just take that in, just understand.

Me? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I feel, of what I’ve said, of who I am, but most of all I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my life the way I feel when I’m with you.

I stood in a crowded place today, faces blurred past, all new to me. Then one of them caught my eye as I turned to leave…it was yours. Joy filled my body first and I almost ran to you. But reality quickly grabbed me by arm and I remembered everything that had happened…so I held myself together and walked away.

You can never get what you want if you’re too scared to get hurt.

And I let my heart go, it’s somewhere down at the bottom but I’ll get a new one and get back for the hope that you’ve stolen.

It is a risk to love. What if it doesn’t work out? Ah, but what if it does.

And tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I’ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.

I always have this fear that one day you’re going to realize that I’m not as great as you thought I was.

I can handle you leaving. But what I can’t handle is you leaving and then coming back the second you realize your mistake.

It’s like seeing someone for the first time, and you look at each other for a few seconds, and there’s this kind of recognition like you both know something. Next moment the person’s gone, and it’s too late to do anything about it.

I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment, and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.

Maybe I’m selfish because I’ve realized that I don’t want to fall in love with someone, I want someone to fall madly in love with me.

Give me one good reason to stay, I watch my reflection turn away. You kill me with everything you say and I just can’t stand myself this way.

You walk around like you’re okay. Maybe you’re not, at least not today. The sun’s not shining, but there’s no rain. This feeling of missing you is driving me insane.

I’m not sure about much and I always struggle to explain the way I feel. I don’t open to anyone and I keep my heart locked away. But somehow you made it leap out of my chest. Somehow you get me to tell you my deepest, darkest secrets.

I want warm summer nights, to lie in a hammock, staring at the stars, telling you stories. I want to dip my toes in the water, to dangle my feet off the edge of the dock and sit leaning forward, looking at you, laughing. To huddle around a fire on the beach, salt water drying into my hair, reading from that book you always carry. I want to sit next to you on a log and sleep next to you in a tent. I want to wake up early and make pancakes over a fire, to wash the dishes in the river while we swim. To build sandcastles and castles-in-the-air. I want to drive home with my bare feet on the dashboard, the windows down, my hair whipped in every direction from the wind rushing through the open windows. I want to hear your voice humming to the tune of the songs on the radio that you don’t know the words to. I want to be able to look at you and smile and not say a word. To have adventures and passion and to truly live.

It has never been a question of who forgets. But sometimes, there’s a definite pain of being the one who remembers everything.

My mom always said, “Men don’t think.” I thought she meant, “They are mistaken in their thoughts.” But they’re just not thinking anything at all. About you. They’re watching the game. That’s why they haven’t called.

In the end, everyone turns out to be the person they swore they’d never become.

If you really want to help me, don’t break me down like he did. Yeah, I know. You’re a nice guy, but so was he. And yeah, I know. You’re different. But that’s what I thought about him.

I miss that feeling. The feeling you get when you have someone in your life you can tell things to. A person that you can tell all your hopes, dreams and aspirations. Knowing that they are truly listening. The feeling of a person who wants to talk to you, because you are you.

The human body essentially recreates itself every six months. Nearly every cell of hair and skin and bone dies and another is directed to its former place. You are not who you were last November.

Don’t come back to me, asking for a chance. I gave you one, you were just too blinded by her to see it. So when I finally find someone who I could possibly fall in love with don’t come by saying I never gave you a chance. I gave you one, a big one. I was in love with you for so long. I waited, but I’m done waiting.

Sometimes there doesn’t even have to be a reason. I knew from experience that no matter how much you turn things in your head, trying to make sense of them, some people just defy all logic.

My feelings just changed. I had been waiting for you to realize you couldn’t go another day without me. I had played out every excuse you could of had for putting all that time between us. Missing you had become second nature to me. And somewhere in the last year, when I never got that phone call, and you never showed up at my window, and we never ran into each other, I just stopped feeling like I needed you so much.

I hate how we don’t talk for a while, and I finally start to get over you, and then you call. And I’m right back where I started. Its like you know that I’m getting over you, and you don’t want me to.

It’s like a thousand paper cuts soaked in vinegar. That’s the way it feels when I see him touching her. It’s like falling face first into a bed of broken glass.


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