im going to say it like it is because there is no other way to say it.
when the sadness seeps over and layers itself over the words that come through, you congratulate me on how wonderful it looks in courier new text and how you can see it like its picture perfect for you. in this steady picture frame of yours, why cant you stretch your arm across and squeeze my hand as i bend down and cry and scream until i start to feel okay again? cant you wrap me in your arms and hands and hold your palms and fingers under my eyes and cheeks to catch me when the only thing thats holding up is you? why cant you?
i hate the way that you make me feel, when the only thing that you think that matters is the words that go across and from your mouth, and the only thing that you cant see is that they go right through me, and the only words that you say are the kind of words that are only for you and never for me. then there are the things that are never said, from the people who have just recently stopped talking me from the reason that i can never wonder why, i just never asked, i just waited for their simple apology and the unmeaningful "i miss you." because they know and i know they never had to say it if they just carried on talking to me. but i guess thats my fault too.
i hate the way i compare myself to people that i thought loved me and made me feel completely perfect in those unperfect ways. i hate the way that they take me only for use and strip away my identity, to take away the things that i was only hanging on to, and leave me bare with the enormous gapping whole of feeling just utterly lonely, that i have never had before.
and i hate the way you think these things are easy until they start happening to you and you have no hand to grip on to, or body to lean on to, or somebody who says anything but "i dont know what to say right now" or they dont say anything at all. all you and i need are the simple "you're going to be okay"'s, and the words that simply just reassure you, and those people who tell you to just keep carrying on because its worthwhile because you're worthwhile.
and in return, you actually have somebody behind the courier new text, who eventually stops hating the way everything makes them feel. stop making me feel so lonely.
love, heather.
i hate the way that you make me feel, when the only thing that you think that matters is the words that go across and from your mouth, and the only thing that you cant see is that they go right through me, and the only words that you say are the kind of words that are only for you and never for me. then there are the things that are never said, from the people who have just recently stopped talking me from the reason that i can never wonder why, i just never asked, i just waited for their simple apology and the unmeaningful "i miss you." because they know and i know they never had to say it if they just carried on talking to me. but i guess thats my fault too.
i hate the way i compare myself to people that i thought loved me and made me feel completely perfect in those unperfect ways. i hate the way that they take me only for use and strip away my identity, to take away the things that i was only hanging on to, and leave me bare with the enormous gapping whole of feeling just utterly lonely, that i have never had before.
and i hate the way you think these things are easy until they start happening to you and you have no hand to grip on to, or body to lean on to, or somebody who says anything but "i dont know what to say right now" or they dont say anything at all. all you and i need are the simple "you're going to be okay"'s, and the words that simply just reassure you, and those people who tell you to just keep carrying on because its worthwhile because you're worthwhile.
and in return, you actually have somebody behind the courier new text, who eventually stops hating the way everything makes them feel. stop making me feel so lonely.
love, heather.