I can’t help but wonder if I ever cross your mind. I lay here in the dark playing back all the words you said & the day you left. It kills me, all the words that were left unsaid all the sorrow I held inside and the tears I refused to cry. How do you walk away from someone you told so much? How do you go about your life living just fine? Did you not mean a word you said,was it all lies you hid behind? You broke my heart I hope you know but I still have faith one day ill let you go.
Any boy who loves coffee, music, netflix, and reading is a definite keeper.
I just wanna marry someone who loves dogs and Jesus
It’s important to make friendships that are deeper than gossiping and drinking and smoking and going out.
Make friends who you can go get breakfast with, make friends you can cry with, make friends who support your life goals and believe in you.
This is simply beautifully said.
When I think about never speaking to him again, I picture a girl walking in a crowd that’s all moving in the same direction, and then suddenly she drops everything she’s holding and turns around and starts running as fast as she can, smiling and pushing past everyone till finally she reaches an open space and her face looks like sunshine as her hair blows behind her in the wind and she’s free she’s free, oh God, she’s free.
But then I think about walking into a doctor’s office ten years from now and sitting on a cold metal table, staring at my legs dangling off the edge, waiting. And then I look up as the door opens slowly, not expecting to see his tattooed arms hidden in a lab coat, but there he is and, oh God, his eyes haven’t changed, and I can’t breathe, and he just stands there, looking at me like an unfinished sentence. Then I’d have to let him put a stethoscope to my chest and listen to my heart and I wonder what it’d sound like, if it would sound like messy half beats of missing him. If he’d be able to tell. If he’d care.
Or maybe the next time I see him, if I ever see him again, we’ll both be whole versions of ourselves, content and in good places, our lives all sorted out and how we always hoped they’d be. And maybe we’d be able to talk about the weather and our kids and the lives we created apart. And maybe I’d be able to look at him with only feelings of pleasant acquaintance and relative indifference, not seeing the boy I fell for when I should’ve been focused on catching myself.
And I know I should find comfort in thinking about how one day I may look at him and feel nothing,
but it’s four in the morning and I don’t want to let go.