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Do you want me in your life or not?
I love you, I love you, I love you. I feel like I scream it everyday.
I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. Words that fall on empty ears, I’m afraid.
You say beautiful things to me when I’m with you, when I lay my head against your heart and whisper that I’m scared. We have this chemistry, I feel like we’re tethered to each other somehow, that you’ll always be on my mind. And you are. Every day.
And I wonder if you ever think of me. If my daily texts are quickly deleted, if my facebook messages are clicked away, if you always ignore my calls.
I wish I knew what to believe.
The love and hope and pureness that you espouse is so dear to me, it rings so true. I know you meant it.
But your actions prove hollow. You haven’t spoken to me in weeks. Do you just want me to go away?
Please just TELL me. Say SOMETHING.
Are you really too busy to send a text?
A yay or nay. “I miss you” or even just a simple “I don’t want to talk”.
Please.
It kills me.
It rips me apart.
To hide my feelings from so many, and wait and wait and wait for you to throw me fewer than 20 letters of something.
Something that says I care or I don’t. Something that says, Keep holding on or Just go away.
Honestly, I’d take either.
I love you so much. I will leave if you want me to.
Just please let me know what you want.
All I want is to know where I stand with you.
Do you want me or don’t you?
I want you.
No matter how far away you are, I still think of you daily. And miss you. And love you. And want you in my life.
My feelings are so….confused.
I can’t decide who my loyalties are to.
I love them both.
But do..I love one more?
Fuck.
To be in someone’s arms, and to be thinking of another. To go back to comparing them all the time again.
Wishing somehow…it was clearer and easier.
Always the distance factors in.
Who would I be with if they were both next door?
And now the…feeling between us that the end is already in sight. I’m leaving. I can’t survive here. We have less than a year left together, it seems.
Will we just give each other up when the split comes?
Will we try to stay together apart distances?
You’ve given me so much. Changed me for the better. I’ve truly grown in this relationship.
But the problems are ever present.
I keep waiting for you to find that “better” girl. So I can graciously bow out and say, Good. I’m glad you’ve found your person. I love you. I’m happy for you. Thank you for being a part of my life. Now go be a part of hers.
You can’t imagine how strong that feeling is. That while I love you so much, I just feel like I’m not right for you. You deserve different than me. But it makes me sad to know there will come a day that I’ll have to leave, and give you up to another.
On the other hand, I’d be so happy if he were to find another girl. I’m still in love with this person who has hurt me so much, I still see so much beauty in him.
But…he should have someone who won’t hurt him.
I don’t want to toy with his feelings just cause I need a person.
He won’t find another girl, I don’t think.
When he said, “I never really got over it.” and I realized he’d never stopped wanting me, how awful it must be for him. I want to give him pieces of myself as much as I can.
And I can’t help but feeling like a cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater.
Boys, run away from me. I will only slowly poison and destroy you.
Is it wrong to want to give myself to two people?
I don’t want to be polyamorous, and I know I couldn’t be - certainly not in this situation.
I want to…love two people and be with two people and…be happy. I don’t know.
I’m not….I don’t want to use them. I’m not in it for double the sex, or double the attention…
They both bring out good in me. Make me feel special in different ways.
And…they both have shitty sides that I want to avoid.
Things that only the other makes up for.
Dylan would never ignore me.
Pearson would never say mean things just to hurt me.
And I try and I try to boil it down to…which is worse?
If I have to choose a relationship; choose what will make me miserable for the next few years, or maybe my whole life….
Would I rather go through the agony of waiting, ever waiting, to be paid attention to. Waiting to have my words matter. Waiting for him to say once, just once, that he’s thinking of me. Hoping he’ll say he misses me. Seeking me out if I don’t come around. He treats me well, respects me, makes sure I’m always taken care of. He refuses to be mean or intolerant or shitty in any way. Being important, showing that I matter, that he cares by giving me attention, is that the most important thing?
Or is it worse to live in happiness. Beauty and understanding and love and affection and knowing I’m glorious and the center of his world, he falls asleep and wakes up thinking of me…only to have him viciously tear me down over the tiniest difference in opinion? Will I feel safe? Will I feel respected? Will he ever not…hurt me? Is being nice and feeling safe and respected…is that the most important thing?
If I could figure out which was better, or worse, I suppose; then I wouldn’t be so torn between them. But I’m afraid I always will be.
And I’m afraid I’ll always want more.
And honestly, I feel as though I’ve gotten terribly lucky so far, and that I’m not gonna find a better person than one of these two people, at least for the long term.
And so I come back to, I love them both and they bring out my best…until they bring out their worst.
It’s simply terrifying when your partner sighs and admits, “I don’t know how we’re going to live together next year.”
And suddenly you’re panicking.
Please don’t leave me.
I’ll try to change.
Don’t do this to me.
You’ve sent me into a tailspin.
I don’t know how to not want to be around you.
Being near you makes me happy, gives me comfort, fills me with safety.
That the thought of sharing a room with me constantly for nine months because you’re going crazy with me being around all the time for 7 days causes you to shudder….it hurts.
I just want to be with you.
And you can’t stand my constancy.
I understand you need alone time.
It’s just kindof upsetting that you don’t miss me unless I’ve been absent for significant periods of time. Weeks, before you miss me? Before my presence is wanted again?
It makes me sick to my stomach.
My messiness disturbs you to your core and you can’t be around me for a week without going crazy.
I’m worried about how it will work out too.
But the way you said, “I don’t know how we’re going to live together next year.”
Just puts me in a misery.
Usually we find our compromise and go from there.
But this….it seems like….you’re seriously reconsidering our relationship.
I already worry enough about our tentative future.
I really care about you and…I feel like you’re going to leave me behind.
And I really don’t want to go through that again. Again-again.
I love the way we cuddle
Your patience
The tiny kisses down my shoulder
The sly grins you give me in a crowded elevator
How you brush my hair back from my face and smile at me
The way you laugh when your mouth is full
When you call me babe
Your minty lips
The feeling of your fingers intertwined with mine
Your acceptance of the inevitable hickies
How you always know when to hold my waist from behind and let me lean into you
How you let me hog the bed
That you buy me Nutella
How you make me feel safe
The way you nuzzle me when I’m embarrassed
How smart you are, even when you try to downplay it
When you tell me I’m precious or special
That I don’t have to worry about ever being pressured by you
When you ask me a question ending in “, dear?”
How you nibble my ears
The way you sigh and snuggle closer when I say I love you
Your “man noises”
How unabashedly proud you are of me
That every chance you get, you hold me close and dance with me
Your unconditional love of Chilly
The way you squeeze me extra tight before you let go
Your complete non-fear and brave face during any kind of horror movie
When you told me that you thought I was the person who cared the most about you
I wish you were who I want you to be.
×I hate that your actions never match your words.
How you love me, but seem hesitant to show it.
How I’m the most important thing, but really never come first.
I’m “grating”, I’m “not spontaneous”, I talk “too much”, I’m not “normal”.
I hate feeling this way. This sad, guilty, unsure way.
Knowing that you dislike going on adventures with me, are never excited when I try to take you places with me; and then you going to this party without telling me. I was invited too, and turned it down because I was nervous about being with strangers. I knew you’d stay in your room and play video games and after our last upset, I wasn’t about to ask if you wanted to go somewhere with me.
I didn’t want to hear the exasperated-with-me huff and the I-hate-when-you-put-me-in-this-position sigh. I didn’t want to hear how you’d rather be alone in your dark room with games than go somewhere new and exciting with me.
And instead, I was the one at home all night. Watching Netflix. Cutting up magazines to make collage postcards. It was enjoyable, not a sad thing.
But I kept thinking about the party. What I would’ve worn to this Halloween Soiree. Would I have made new friends? Was the food spooky?
It was a shock to get,
“Ok, listen im tired from the party, so im gonna go to bed now, good night love”
You didn’t even..mention you were thinking about going.
I…I may be annoying but I call myself your girlfriend and I actually like being around you. I truly enjoy your company. And want to experience things with you.
We had an argument the last two times I tried taking you places. To the goddamn library. To the building you’d never been in. To Chipotle.
You made it very clear how unwelcome my advances were. And I swore to myself I wouldn’t do that again. That I could go anywhere on my own and be happy and that if you stayed in your room that it was your choice and I shouldn’t try to influence it and that if you wanted to be around me, you’d come with.
And then….this.
Did you not want me around?
You sure avoided it until the last possible moment.
And now I know…when I visit you won’t want to go anywhere. Because you’ve been somewhere. And because I won’t ask you to come with me to places. Because you don’t like that.
I…limit myself to make you happier. Or at least I feel like I do.
Don’t talk so much.
Don’t text so much.
Don’t ask so many questions. Questions are annoying.
Remember, don’t bother him while he’s playing games.
Stop trying to cuddle so much.
Don’t try to take him with you places.
Don’t make faces to show you’re unhappy.
Don’t text that you’re horny.
Don’t text that you’re sad.
Drop it when he won’t tell you something.
Don’t get so excited over tiny things.
Don’t ask him to go places with you.
Always an exasperation, I am.
Wanting you near. Wanting to do things with you. Wanting to better understand you. Wanting to learn and be interested in the things you like.
I feel so stupid.
I’m always an annoyance to you.
No wonder you didn’t want me around.
Who would?
×He brought me breakfast in bed and then we cuddled.
And it made me happy.
Despite that every 36 hours or so I want to kill him and never speak to him again, we somehow always work it out.
Slow goings.
×I hate what you did to me.
I hate how you treated me.
And then got angry at ME.
Just fuck you.
I fucking hate you.
I hate that I care about you. That I love you. That you’re important to me.
I hate that I meant so little to you that you could do that.
I said no so many times.
And you kept pushing.
And it took that to make me realize that everything since New Year’s was about you TAKING sex from my body. There’s no sharing of love.
I want so much to feel that connection that we once had.
But you don’t care.
It’s just a fuck to you.
A pressured-into fuck.
That every time before I just put up with.
But the one time I resist, I’m the bad one. Not you, the boy who pushed through consent. Not you, the boy who pushed his dick between my legs. Not you, the boy who pushed my legs apart. Not you, the boy who pushed me away when I finally pushed you off of me.
Who the fuck do you think you are?
God I fucking can’t believe you would treat me that way.
Get angry.
Say, It’s not like I held you down and raped you.
Lack of physical violence is not an excuse. It’s a way to downgrade what you actually did. Making it seem less violent and less violating and less painful and like emotional and mental pain is less important.
That’s fucking bullshit and I would never imagine you could resort to that but you did.
It tore me apart inside.
You aren’t the boy I fell in love with.
You aren’t the boy I’m still in love with.
I’m still head over heels in love with that boy.
So much so that I still cling to the tiny parts of him still in you.
And think maybe you’re still him.
Try to convince myself.
But I won’t ever do that again.
Not after this.
So many times I came to you to be held, and told that everything would be okay. And instead, got literally fucked. I put up with it so that I could feel loved for a few hours.
And I hate that I thought you were still him.
I miss him.
I hate you.
Sometimes I wish I could just talk to the boy I loved.
It’s that back-in-time wish we all have.
I know that I’d want to hold him and kiss him and intertwine our bodies and promise to never let go, make him understand that I would never hurt him ever again if he would just come back.
But I know that can’t happen.
So I just wish that I could talk to him.
See the sheer amazement and joy on his face that he always had when he looked at me.
To be the only thing that matters again for a few minutes.
Hear the deep complete happiness and love in his voice when he said my name.
And know that when he said it, he was so proud to call me his, and I was so happy to call him mine.
Watch him smile and laugh.
I only ever captured his true candid smile in one picture. And it doesn’t do him justice.
He glowed when he smiled.
His beautiful smell, and how tiny whiffs of it made me further smitten.
Just to look at him.
Before the pain, before the brokeness.
He could never believe that I wanted only him, only him forever.
How I ache to touch the boy I loved.
His skin was perfect to me.
The cuts of his collarbones, the sinewy lengths of his arms, the hollows of his shoulders I touched so many times that I can feel them under my fingertips when I imagine them.
His dark eyes that looked at me always in amazement and adoration.
His angular bonyness always managed to fit perfectly against my curves. We’d wrap around each other and the world would disappear. I would forget how to be one distinct person when I was with him.
How I wish I could talk to the boy I loved.
Have him back for a few minutes.
See his love, hear his love, feel his love.
Promise that I won’t forget ever. I won’t forget what we had, what we shared.
That we loved more than we could’ve dreamed possible.
That we lost more.
So the whole WEEK I was with you was fake.
The whole time you were actually angry, depressed, sad, and harbored awful feelings for me. The whole time you wanted me to go away and leave you alone.
And instead loved me and cared about me and made me feel special. Collectively, probably the happiest I’ve ever been with you, and certainly the closest I’ve ever felt to you.
You’re a better liar than I ever could be.
×I’m just so fed up with you.
You hold so little value to me.
I don’t know why I keep wanting you to talk to me, keep wanting you to care.
Maybe because I’ve wanted it for so long and it continues to elude me.
Maybe you’ll never care.
“I love you.”
“Thank you”
Fuck you.
I can’t believe you referred to yourself as my boyfriend and then pull shit like this. It just hurts.
Like you won’t take my feelings seriously or something.
I don’t want to be a rag doll that you rip apart and say you care about as you squish it into the mud.
I’ve always wanted for you to pay attention and care and love me.
If you love me, shouldn’t it be easy to show you care? Shouldn’t you always think I’m special and beautiful?
Why won’t you just go away if you refuse to participate in a relationship.
Today is your birthday.
But of course it’s more complicated than that.
Of course you would say when we broke up, “We can each do whatever the fuck we want, we have no say in each other’s lives.”
So when I encourage you to go see your friends and celebrate, you say, If I see my friends, I’ll probably get drunk.
….Okay?
So then you asked if I thought that was ok.
…I thought we weren’t having a say? You already know how I feel about underage drinking. Also you’re not my boyfriend. Do whatever the fuck you want.
So then you went, and when I called you back after missing a call, you were all annoyed. I wasn’t trying to interrupt your time with your friends. I’m not like that.
And now when I ask about you chilling with them, hoping you’ll tell me fun stories, you avoid. Obviously, you did something you think I’ll disapprove of.
Today, 1 text. The typical hows your day going text that you send daily.
Wow. The love flows. The trust bubbles. Clearly, you really want me in your life.
Bleck.
It’s getting to a point where I don’t even know what to say to you. So I just…only talk about myself. It’s annoying even to me.
I always tell people on their birthday how special they are to me and what I love about them.
Today I called, 5 minutes tops, just to say, Hey. I’m glad you went to see your friends and had fun. At the end I said, I *LOVE* you, like I do to all my close friends.
You said, BYE.
Really harshly.
That hurt.
It wasn’t a romantic I love you. It was an honest, you are a person who I have love for.
But you skirted around it anyway.
Why do I sometimes feel like I know you extremely well…and then I don’t even know who you are sometimes?
I don’t even really know what you want from me.
But I don’t think it’s any real form of companionship.
Fucking fuck fuck fuck
I call Pearson after like, not really talking for a week
Telling a really funny story, one that would have other people laughing with and at me
I get to the end
Silence
Sielnce for 20 seconds
Then he says, You stopped talking, dear.
I said, Yup.
He said, Why?
I said, Because I’m used to getting responses from people… . You’re watching a movie?
He said, Sorry. I’m trying really hard to pay attention to you.
And yet, the 20 seconds
WHAT THE FUCK DOES IT TAKE FOR HIM TO PAY ATTENTION?
×