Somewhere along the line the boy with the moon shaped dimples and stark white teeth began to fade from my life. What started as a friendly agreement became a priority. My phone ceased to light with urgency every other minute. The replies took longer to write and even longer to send. A game of cat and mouse ensued and we both were quite unsure how it began and which role we played.
The speed at which someone loses importance in your life is almost frightening. I tried to remember what it was that had drawn me to him. It wasn’t the sureness of gate or matter of fact-ness in his smile. No, he lacked both of those things. It wasn’t the curl of his hair or cutting cheekbones or skin the color of almonds. I think, maybe, it had something to do with the promise of being wanted.
Good before the bad.
I was going through my notes and I found a poem about a boy that I thought I could potentially love lol.
I’m in love with you. Your effortless, child-like personality. You are every good. You are the middles. Because beginnings are too sweet and endings are so bitter. You are the warm happy middle. The deep intimate noon. The good before the bad. With you there is no hurt. Ive loved you forever.
Lol he definitely was the middles. It’s weird seeing personal growth by reading old work. Like at the time I might have genuinely felt like this. Four months ago i thought beginnings were too sweet. Four months ago I thought that maybe I found someone good for me. Four months ago I was an entirely different me than I am today.
I turned 18. I was gullible. Impatient. Scared. Bold. Confident. I turned childhood friends into memories. I let go of the things that were too heavy for my 5 foot one inch 115 pound body to carry. I let someone touch me. I touched someone. I dreamed of the future in a way that I never did before.
Good people are like candles; they burn themselves up to give others light.
— Turkish Proverb (via fujoshibabe)
Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.
When he says
He doesn’t love you anymore,
Roll your shoulders back
And look him in the eye
Even when it feels like your ribs
Are breaking inward, like spider legs.
When he digs up old aches
That he swore he forgave you for,
And ask him why he didn’t leave you sooner.
Ignore the way the words feel like sandpaper
Running all the way up your throat to your mouth.
When he blames you
For mistakes that wear his face,
Do not scream.
Do not cry.
Tell him that there are boys
Who would be proud to say they’d loved you.
Tell him that in two years
You won’t even remember his name
And don’t let him see the way you can taste your own lie.
When he leaves
Ignore the howling in your blood
And do not get up after him.
Not even to lock the door.
Do not, do not
Smell his shirts when you box them up
To give them back.
Swear off dating when you realize
You’re chasing ghosts that wear his smile.
It’s okay to cry over him.
It’s even okay to forgive him.
But do not go back to him.
If he did not know how to love you the first time,
He won’t know how to do it the next.
— How To Pretend It Doesn’t Hurt, by Ashe Vernon (via 1811181)
- *scrolling down Instagram, sees pic of a girl*
- Me: Yeah, she cute
- *almost likes the pic, but refrains"
- Me: ......but she already know she cute