(no subject)
tenure
...
remind me, but don't remember. take care of your own interests. listen to yourself. just listen to your fucking self.
...
i read back the words verbatim and i finally understand why i write. i write to warn myself. i express these feelings in a non-specific vagueness that only make sense afterwards.
...
i didn't cry because i thought we would be together forever. i didn't cry because i loved you. i cried because i was an addict to the feeling, and now you were cutting me off. i was a slave to the words. a slave to your touch. a lesser thing.
...
i could write it all out in plain english and you still wouldn't understand.
...
i asked myself a lot of poignant questions after you left me. i asked myself what i need. i asked myself why and why. i asked myself if it was something i did, something i said.
i listened in earnest for answers that would satisfy my curiosity.
then i realized i don't need excuses. i don't need reasons. i don't need your pity or your friendship. at best, you loved me. you know as well as i do that wasn't enough.
...
we had to slowly sever our ties. our lives tangled up as they were, we had responsibilities. i noticed you getting thinner. i noticed you acting nice. was the guilt that heavy on you? no matter. whatever you showed on the surface, i couldn't speculate about what you felt on the inside. it's over now. i won't crawl back. and it's not like you would beg me. you obviously had been planning the break for a while.
i don't need your petty pity.
...
i read the whole bloody affair at once today. it read like i was always doubtful, but i was happy to be oblivious. reality is a bitch.
...
i ask myself
and my dead friends
what was it like at the very end?
they reply in whispers
that turn into screams
leave.
just leave.
...
..
.
...
remind me, but don't remember. take care of your own interests. listen to yourself. just listen to your fucking self.
...
i read back the words verbatim and i finally understand why i write. i write to warn myself. i express these feelings in a non-specific vagueness that only make sense afterwards.
...
i didn't cry because i thought we would be together forever. i didn't cry because i loved you. i cried because i was an addict to the feeling, and now you were cutting me off. i was a slave to the words. a slave to your touch. a lesser thing.
...
i could write it all out in plain english and you still wouldn't understand.
...
i asked myself a lot of poignant questions after you left me. i asked myself what i need. i asked myself why and why. i asked myself if it was something i did, something i said.
i listened in earnest for answers that would satisfy my curiosity.
then i realized i don't need excuses. i don't need reasons. i don't need your pity or your friendship. at best, you loved me. you know as well as i do that wasn't enough.
...
we had to slowly sever our ties. our lives tangled up as they were, we had responsibilities. i noticed you getting thinner. i noticed you acting nice. was the guilt that heavy on you? no matter. whatever you showed on the surface, i couldn't speculate about what you felt on the inside. it's over now. i won't crawl back. and it's not like you would beg me. you obviously had been planning the break for a while.
i don't need your petty pity.
...
i read the whole bloody affair at once today. it read like i was always doubtful, but i was happy to be oblivious. reality is a bitch.
...
i ask myself
and my dead friends
what was it like at the very end?
they reply in whispers
that turn into screams
leave.
just leave.
...
..
.