my friendships fade the way snowangels lose their shape in the hale of falling snow.
the past is covered up by the present. the future cares little for memories. if at all.
little girls think that prefection is attainable.
i did.
i wanted it all: the prince, the fairytale, the works. i wanted the golden carriage, the friends you can trust. friends who trust you.
would you believe me if i told you i almost had it all?
no. stop. look here. open your palm, recieve a crocodile tear. that’s what X would call the by-product of my pain.
maybe he’s right. maybe i don’t feel. maybe every tear cried for someone else is selfish. maybe i’m crying only for myself.
and now, imagine.
imagine the girl you knew from pri-school, long time ago now, shuts you out. one of your best friends for god knows how many years. you let her. you can’t be chasing her. it’s all too much. let her get away. weeks later you get mad, mad at her for not caring about your friendship, about putting her creepy male friend first. she denies. and then she relents. she tells you everything. or so you presume. she lost her virginity to him. got pregnant by chance that very first time. passed out when she found out. lost the baby soon thereafter. is still with her girlfriend now.
now tell me, what would you do?
how can you bridge the world anew when it’s not lego you’re playing with any more, but life?
Posted in chapters of my life
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putting up with my chronic unhappiness must drive you mad, my love.
and though i want nothing more than for you to be happy always, sadness never near, as if you put a restraining order on it, don’t expect the same for me. truth is, i almost like being miserable. it’s like it’s my motivation to bring up every frustration at dinner time and know that very little of it really hurts me.
so sweet to taste victory after proclaiming defeat. and when you start winning, you want more. you always want more.
noone ever died from wanting too much
and that could be the soundtrack to my life, it really could.
the world is not enough
but it is such a perfect place to start, my love
but you don’t believe that do you?
you’re happy with the way we are, blissfully unaware of the way i hurt inside, thinking that you expect so much of me, the way every time i feel the burning need to give more and more, but seem able only to give less.
still, this is not the end.
i don’t believe there will be one, because i don’t want it to end. ever. but is that just me wanting too much again?
and right now i’m just not sure. yesterday hurt, if not you, then me. the conversation, the way you looked at me, the cold i felt eminating from the familiar warm mound of you on the bed there.
still, i’ll try to set the memories of our hurts alight, because really there aren’t that many. because i love you more than that.
if we can’t have it all
then nobody will
but, my love, i’m afraid i can’t do a thing about my chronic unhapiness.
it’s become a part of me. just like you.
Posted in chapters of my life
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glittering soot on her eyelashes 