(no subject)

[tattered_]

i never thought that i could be so insanely consumed by someone. It has been eight months, you would think that perhaps that part of my heart would have crumpled up and died by now, but no. Every day my thoughts travel back to when i would sit across the room in my little corner and try to watch you out of the corner of my eye and every now and then you would look up and catch me and my tiny, exausted-from-anorexia face would turn a deep shade of crimson and i would look out the window and wish that i could throw myself off the balcony and into on-coming traffic just so i could be relieved from this torture. I dreamt of the day when i would could fly away and leave that part of my tattered paper heart in your hands and not look back, not even contemplate the affects of what could have happened if i had just told you how i felt. I never wanted to be hurt again. i never wanted to have to stand behind a transparent wall and watch you parading infront of me, while i stood there with my hands pressed up aganst the glass, wanting you, needing you. Every night i would lay cold and alone in my bed, un-touched, un-loved, and wonder how you would feel if i peeled your clothes off piece by piece and traced over your skin with my fingertips..
But thoughts and memories are all i have of you because you have been gone for the last eight months, vanished. Left without the words trickling from my mouth. Left holding the fragments of my heart in your hands.
I stood there before you and screamed in silence for your to take me and hurt me, as i did not mind if you ripped the remains of my soul from my body and squashed them under your shoes. All i wanted was to have you touch me, even if it meant that my heart was disintergrated forever.
Eight months. Eight fucking months. Eight months of wanting and needing and longing and wondering.
God, i am such a fucking hopeless idiot.