Change of heart

I can’t even write about you. That’s when you know it’s bad. When the story I’ve been working on for years, suddenly seems like trash because it’s written about you.

You and your inconsiderate heart, me and my vulnerable soul.

That’s what this story seems to be about.

But, I can’t keep playing the victim. I chose to be broken by you. I searched for someone like you, to release all of the demons I had hiding so deeply within me.

So, I feel like this story may have changed its purpose in my life. No longer am I romanticizing you and our crazy, reckless, inconsistent love. It is a story of a girl and boy who broke each other and could never be the same again.

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Maybe I am the Season…

I think the problem with me is that I tend to get bored easily. Everything at the beginning is new and exciting, but then it becomes repetitive and tedious.

It’s like how at school, I couldn’t get through classes by the end. I just couldn’t even look at a textbook without feeling completely emptied of any passion I may have had when I first purchased it.

What’s wrong with me? Is this a normal, healthy state of being? Or is it something I must learn to rid of?

I like following my impulses, reaching for one bad habit after the next. I enjoy the thrill of substances and material purchases and a bout full of sugary foods. I like to hit cigarette after cigarette and type out story after story.

I live to avoid, to avoid being still or to avoid reality.

I guess that’s why when I’m with someone, I can’t stand it. They put me in this consistent, tedious reality that I’m unable to escape without hurting them. When I’m alone, I can make decision after decision without it affecting much other people. When I was with someone, my decisions had consequences for them.

I don’t know how to be still. I don’t know if I want to be.

My mind flows from one project to the next, one idea to the next, one love to the next. It’s what helps me experience life and everything to the fullest. Is that so wrong?

Please don’t be a season

Please don’t be a season.

Don’t be a fallen leaf in Autumn that slowly dies as it hits the pavement.

Don’t be the touch of snow on skin that quickly melts away in Winter.

Don’t be the rainbow after rain, hiding behind clouds of grey in Spring.

Don’t be warm beach days, fresh green grass and bright sunny rays that pass by as quickly as time does in the Summer.

You’re not allowed to come in and out of my life like the weather.

I want you for years to come.

I want you like the comfort of sitting down after every long day, knowing it’s a luxury whether on the floor or a coushioned chair.

I want you like the tattoo on the bottom of my neck, wearing out from too much sun exposure, but always holding meaning within my skin.

I want you like the memories written in books passed down for generations– causing stories to be diluted, but still partaking in history.

I want you like all of my body, maybe growing weaker as I get older, but always remaining, always trying, still working after so much vulnerability.

You are not just a season to me, you are a year. A year full of life, memories, sunshine, rainy days, snow fall and golden brown leaves on the ground.

Please don’t just be another season.

Selfish

You can’t be happy for me. It’s called being selfish. You miss me in your life only because you’re lonely, only because it has changed for the worst for you. I’m happy. Understand I’ve made the right decision for me and if you did the same to me then I would understand. Some people don’t help us grow. Some people damage us when we try to hold onto them. My grip was so tightly wrapped around you and you had no idea. You didn’t feel me. You didn’t even fucking notice. It wasn’t until I let go when you felt some kind of loss. You took advantage of my love and the worst thing is you didn’t even know it. At least if you knew the extent at which I tried, it would’ve been easier. You didn’t even know, because you didn’t even care. And now you look at me, anger filling your light blue eyes. I hope you know I’m used to that face. Filled with anger when you see me. I’m used to disappointing you and pissing you off because your emotions were so easily angered. It’s called being selfish. Because when I don’t care to your needs, you get pissed off. You challenged our friendship so often because you didn’t fucking care. You hurt me without knowing and maybe that’s my own fault, but I thought I made it obvious. I thought all the times I stood by you for hours watching you mix, or being the only one to dance at your shows, or convincing your girlfriend to stay, or trying my hardest to hold back my true feelings would make it obvious. It may be my own fault, but it doesn’t mean I have to stay and continue to deal with those consequences. You’re hurt because I left. You’re hurt because I couldn’t be in a friendship where only I tried and you gave no shits. I’m sorry for saving my energy. I’m sorry for saving my time. I’m sorry for finally putting myself over you. I should’ve never pretended like I was okay. I should’ve never acted like I wasn’t suffering. I was. Now you know and you’re mad. Fuck you. I didn’t mean shit to you. Stop acting like I did.

Shane

You’ve shown me what I’ve been missing. So I’m sorry for the sudden attachment. I’m taking advantage of all the good feelings you give me. 

I’ve kept my heart closed for sometime and didn’t realize this until I started getting close to you. Not that you opened it. You didn’t pry. You didn’t take a wrench and screw with me until I gave in. You’ve been unlike the others. 

You waited. Sat patiently until I slowly tip toed over to you with curiosity. Until I reached out and touched you with my fingertips, only then did you do the same. You waited until I touched first, until I kissed first, until I opened up first. You made me feel like I could first.

I think that’s what made it so easy. You let me know beforehand that there wasn’t going to be any hurt. You proved you were someone I could open up to without being shut back closed. 

I’ve been hurt before and you make me forget that. I’ve been broken before and you make me feel repaired.

I don’t love easy. I’ve refused to. I’ve relied on myself and committed to being alone so that others couldn’t take advantage again. 

I don’t love easy. I don’t give myself easy. I don’t spend a majority of my time thinking about another person because I know what it leads to.

I don’t love easy. Why are you making it so fucking easy?

Freedom

I feel free. I saw you today and I almost smiled. I haven’t talked to you in a few days and I’m happy. I didn’t think I’d feel this way, but I do. I’m going to embrace it, because I deserve to be happy. Even if I did make you sad. I can only be in control of my own emotions, not yours. As much as I’d like to make you happy– that’s all I’ve been trying to do since we’ve been friends. I’ve put your emotions in front of mine for too long. It’s what I did for him too. The both of you were my number ones and I was always number two, just like I was for you.

I’ve cared so much and you’ve cared so little, wrapped up in your own life and drama of your love. You forgot I was there, in the sidelines cheering you on. Always there when you were down, when you didn’t want him, when you didn’t have him to hold. I was there. For the both of you. Open ears, open mind, open arms, but I left my heart closed. Because if it remained opened, I would’ve gotten burned, which is exactly what happened. I finally opened it. I finally opened my heart and my mouth to speak and you quickly shut it down. You can feel, but I can’t. You can love, but I can’t. You can fight, but I can’t. You can stir up drama and hate and confusion, but I can’t. I must remain silent around you and it hurts. It’s my own fault though. I shouldn’t fall into those bad habits. I shouldn’t let people walk all over me, talk to me without listening to me, judge me without hearing me out, fight with me without considering my side. When that’s all I do. All I do is wonder about you. How you’re doing. How he’s doing. How you’re both fucking doing and it hurts. Maybe I ended this the wrong way, but at least I ended it. I can say more than you can.

Better off on my own

People are beautiful. The way they laugh, express joy towards the smallest of things or offer a hand when you’re in need. Even the way people stress kind of excites me. When someone takes a long hit of their cigarette or sweats profusely.

I’ve always been a watcher, a listener, the girl who sits in the sidelines just observing the players. Maybe that’s why it’s easier for me to be on my own. I’ve seen how people are and what they can do. I know that we all hold a beauty of our own, but there’s only so much time I can spend admiring others before I start desiring their lives over my own.

I tend to drift from myself because I’ll see how happy someone else is, how successful, how loved they are and suddenly I want to do what it takes to achieve the same. I’ll copy their movements like a puppet on a string. It’s disturbing. I know deep down what I truly enjoy and who I’m really supposed to be, so when I spend all this time trying to be like someone else I start feeling so depressed.

I watch and watch and watch, like a binge night of Netflix. Then I alter myself to those personalities like an actor on set. It starts to get a little overwhelming and even tiring after a while. Coming home to an empty space, with complete silence besides the creaks made from my upstairs neighbors is literally perfection. I can start finding myself again.

I don’t know of any other way to be living, at least a way of living I’d truly enjoy. It makes me wonder if I’d ever really be happy in a relationship or with a family, with children of my own. I just can’t imagine having to sacrifice so much of myself for others.