(no subject)
Sometimes... I don't know. There is a swelling of emotion in areas that there once was very little, and on the same note, I have watched my own fires die out.
Tonight he told me, "Fuck you, go then."
________________....? I laugh to convince myself that it's nothing worth getting upset over. I cannot convince myself well enough because I spend the rest of the night amazed at how the sweetest boy in the world-- the one who buys me white gold and roses, the only person ever who would let me love them without restraint-- could ever be so cruel. I come back an hour later to be told that all of his harsh words were in jest. ("Baby, I was joking. Despite the fact that I said, 'Fuck you, shut up.' and countless other biting remarks, I was just joking with you." whatever.) Tonight, I will forget these sentences and pretend his lips are clean.
Someone once told me that there's nothing wrong in feeling emotion for someone I don't want to be with anymore. They told me that there is a difference between being in love with someone and loving someone. They said that it's very easy and alluring to fall in love, but actually *loving* someone takes time and patience and fortitude. I don't think I have these traits, and so I continue to fall in love with random thingspeopleideas, never really loving any of them. What a strange little girl I am.
I don't feel anger, anymore. I don't feel jealousy, like someone else is touching what is mine. I feel sadness because I used to wrap my arms around something beautiful and bold, something that encompassed the entire world without ever knowing it. Anymore, it seems like that beautiful thing is doing its best to deconstruct, and any presence of mine makes the process speedier. I will withdraw, retract all previous emotional engagement... we'll pretend like there is nothing but ash and cold air between us. That will surely make you happier.
I wonder how many hands have touched you now. I wonder how many of them know the things that I do about your skin, your body. I wonder if they really understand what it is about you that makes you beautiful, because it never was your stomach or your thighs or your hair or your hipbones. It was you and the way you loved life and the world, without ever knowing it. It was just you and the way you shined. I wonder if they will appreciate all of the tiny things about you, like the way you shave all of your hair off, or the mole on your shoulder blade. I wonder if they will appreciate your beauty marks and the way your eyes crinkle up (just like your dad's) when you smile. I wonder if anyone will ever completely study every detail and part of your personality and your body and watch how they merge together to create you. A miracle. You.
I hope that someone does love you the way I do. I hope someone stronger than me loves you the way I do. I hope that you remember the way we were, the passion that we had, the magic that we shared, and I hope that you will never settle for flattery and spoils. I could never buy you diamonds or gold or cars or vacations, but I did buy you a bobble-head Jack Skeleton because I knew you loved him. And you did buy me daisies because I loved them. And every weekend I made you breakfast, and I let you take pictures of me naked because I never felt ugly with you. I let you inside of me and you're still there. You're still there.
Don't ever let anyone treat you like you're anything but cosmic.
Tonight he told me, "Fuck you, go then."
________________....? I laugh to convince myself that it's nothing worth getting upset over. I cannot convince myself well enough because I spend the rest of the night amazed at how the sweetest boy in the world-- the one who buys me white gold and roses, the only person ever who would let me love them without restraint-- could ever be so cruel. I come back an hour later to be told that all of his harsh words were in jest. ("Baby, I was joking. Despite the fact that I said, 'Fuck you, shut up.' and countless other biting remarks, I was just joking with you." whatever.) Tonight, I will forget these sentences and pretend his lips are clean.
Someone once told me that there's nothing wrong in feeling emotion for someone I don't want to be with anymore. They told me that there is a difference between being in love with someone and loving someone. They said that it's very easy and alluring to fall in love, but actually *loving* someone takes time and patience and fortitude. I don't think I have these traits, and so I continue to fall in love with random thingspeopleideas, never really loving any of them. What a strange little girl I am.
I don't feel anger, anymore. I don't feel jealousy, like someone else is touching what is mine. I feel sadness because I used to wrap my arms around something beautiful and bold, something that encompassed the entire world without ever knowing it. Anymore, it seems like that beautiful thing is doing its best to deconstruct, and any presence of mine makes the process speedier. I will withdraw, retract all previous emotional engagement... we'll pretend like there is nothing but ash and cold air between us. That will surely make you happier.
I wonder how many hands have touched you now. I wonder how many of them know the things that I do about your skin, your body. I wonder if they really understand what it is about you that makes you beautiful, because it never was your stomach or your thighs or your hair or your hipbones. It was you and the way you loved life and the world, without ever knowing it. It was just you and the way you shined. I wonder if they will appreciate all of the tiny things about you, like the way you shave all of your hair off, or the mole on your shoulder blade. I wonder if they will appreciate your beauty marks and the way your eyes crinkle up (just like your dad's) when you smile. I wonder if anyone will ever completely study every detail and part of your personality and your body and watch how they merge together to create you. A miracle. You.
I hope that someone does love you the way I do. I hope someone stronger than me loves you the way I do. I hope that you remember the way we were, the passion that we had, the magic that we shared, and I hope that you will never settle for flattery and spoils. I could never buy you diamonds or gold or cars or vacations, but I did buy you a bobble-head Jack Skeleton because I knew you loved him. And you did buy me daisies because I loved them. And every weekend I made you breakfast, and I let you take pictures of me naked because I never felt ugly with you. I let you inside of me and you're still there. You're still there.
Don't ever let anyone treat you like you're anything but cosmic.