You were never meant for me. I knew it in the most obvious manner. It was in the way you had a subtle sort of comfort in your own skin – a quiet and humble confidence – while I struggled to make sense of the prints on my fingertips and the way one of my eyes crinkled in the corner more than the other when I smiled. You felt safe with yourself while I was always warring with my own reflection. Half the time, I didn’t know who I was. A quarter of the time, I still don’t. You would call this progress if you were here to see, but I just call it sad.
Posts tagged "my writing"
I’m failing, because it’s easier than succeeding. You’d be surprised by what you can unaccomplish just by waiting for the other person to do the right thing. I’m still waiting for an apology and in the meantime, I’ve lost another hour, another week, another minute to you.
I wonder if you’re still breathing in the same pattern that you used to and if your life just picked up as it was before in a way that makes me insignificant and meaningless. I wonder if there’s someone new — if she speaks in complete sentences and means it when she says she loves you. I wonder if you’re doing better and if you’ll get it right this time. I wonder, but I don’t really care.
That’s the difference between now and before, because before I couldn’t forget you and now, I barely remember you.
And sometimes, I get so overwhelmed by the lifetime of feelings that I’ll never have about you — that were never meant for you — but I let you have them anyways.
So now I can’t tell whether I’m right or wrong. Awake or dreaming. Either way, I think I’m more turned around than ever before. I’m still looking for a way out while you’re hoping to find a way in.
We’re never on the same page, in the same book, but somehow we ended up in this place, right here, right now and I don’t know if it’s time for me to let this go. Let you go and learn what it was like to live before all of this.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but I’m almost absolutely sure I’ll choose wrong.
every time it rains, i think of you.
because that is all there is — the wind, the water and a quick breath of air before we all go under.
every time it rains, i think i’m drowning.
When you miss something for long enough, you start to forget the exact way that things happened. Or the exact way they happened to fall apart. For instance, I don’t remember the first time you didn’t call, but I do remember when you told me you loved me – but not enough. It’s never enough, is it? The point is you were gone before I could even say goodbye. You were gone before you were ever really here, but somehow I let myself build a forever with you. I swear the world could end, and I wouldn’t even notice – that’s how self involved I am.
When I think of that first day, I remember the air as being too warm, and your clothes being wrinkled, your hair a mess. I remember how your nerves had your every sentence starting with “uhm” and how I hated indecisiveness and you couldn’t make up your mind, and I remember thinking I could do better without you. Now, I know that first impressions aren’t as important as they tell you every time you open that front door with your mismatched socks and complimentary sarcasm, armed with a crooked smile and bad grammar. Because if that were true, I would have said hello and goodbye in the same sentence. Hell, if that were true, I never would have loved you.
i’m telling myself not to get my hopes up
or i’ll end up falling harder than i meant to.
It’s taken me awhile to realize that years ago, I wrote a story about you. It was before I met you of course, but all the details fit effortlessly when I’m looking into your eyes, and you’re asking me what I’m thinking and I’m lying, because I still say nothing when I’m actually thinking of falling asleep and waking up next to you.