My Life in Letters to You

captions for the images you left in my head

Birthday

It’s your day and I didn’t expect it to be any different. Except that I thought about you a lot. I thought about who you were spending it with. I wondered if she called you to wish you a happy birthday. If your five-year old son spoke to you to tell you you’re the best dad ever. It breaks my heart to write this because I feel like I loved you. And you could have loved me. I just don’t know where I went wrong.

I’m still here. And I’m tired. And I wish it could be you who saved me. I wish it was you.

I was going to write about your birthday but now I’m not so sure.

All she wants is to be found and the stars have been pointing the way back ever since he left.

Never Ask Why Because You’ll Never Get an Answer

I want to know why I still think about you. Why it’s been two years with nothing and you’re still the one my mind runs to on default. I want to know why you ran away. Why I immediately saw a future for us that day I met you. Gross, self, you used to not write like this. But anyway. That’s the problem. It’s still you. You in my dreams every night right before I fall asleep. You in my every stale waking moment—wondering what you’re doing, where you are, who you’re with. I keep thinking about you and wondering if you think about me even if I know you don’t. It’s sad and pathetic, I know, but I can’t help myself. Not unless I know why. Which I wish you would tell me. I miss hearing your voice. I liked that about you. I like the way you whispered. And I like your eyes. I like your face. And I like that you’re tall and sort of a jock. I know I should stop doing this to myself—reliving the memory of you over and over and over again but I just….I loved you. In a tiny, little way, I did. And I knew you were messed up and I wanted to be the one to fix it. I wanted you despite your baggage. Despite how shitty you eventually treated me. I liked you that much to let it slide because I am an idiot that way. I shouldn’t be even stalking you. Or checking your profile. Or wanting to go to your house to just get it out of you because I know I’m in the wrong.

I think about you too much. I think about having dinners with you. Watching movies at home, huddled in the same blanket. Stealing a kiss. But nothing more than that because whatever I had for you or have for you is wholesome and….I wanted nothing more than a kiss. And your love. We could have been something. I could have been your anchor. I wanted everything. I still do. And I’m praying so hard for another chance. Because I really thought it would be you and I wanted it to be you.

I want us to dance in your living room to the music in your head, share a cigarette and your last bottle of beer and maybe when I wake, you’ll be the first thing I see and you’re gonna smile because you know I love you even if I don’t tell you. I want to wake up to your eyes in the sunlight because they’re beautiful and you’re beautiful and I used to be good at this, putting my thoughts down on paper but you’ve messed up the wires in my brain so I’m left to this. I’m an idiot for thinking it but I knew I saw a future for us the day I met you and I guess that’s what still bothers me to this day. I gotta give it up because whatever I had for you was pure and honest and you’re probably the only one I felt this way towards. Just you. And I wish you knew all the things I liked about you. Maybe you will someday. Maybe one day, all the letters I’ve written would finally get to the recipient. Maybe one day I’d finally get to let your memory go for good.

dear today,

i spend all of you pretending i’m okay when i’m not, pretending i’m happy when i’m not, pretending about everything to everyone.

Nina LaCour, Hold Still (via observando)

The Pros and Cons of Living and Breathing

We occupy too much space and oftentimes we hurt each other. By our absence, our inaction, our insensitivity. And we forget to say ‘I love you’ or ‘I miss you’ or we say things we don’t mean and do things we don’t mean…

We occupy too much space physically and in the hearts and minds of others. We put up walls and collect secrets and let the other suffer. We offer no explanation on why we hurt people. Why we intentionally ruin other people’s lives.

Sometimes I just wish I knew why. But that’s the point of all of this, right? Not knowing why people can be such assholes sometimes or be such a blessing. It really depends. But we never know why. We don’t know why I still think about you even if you treat me like shit.

Would everything be better if I knew why? Would I be at peace if I knew why you were being such an asshole towards me?

I want you to know that if I do decide to check out, your name will be on that last letter I’m gonna write. And I’ll hope that you’ll carry with you for the rest of your life an unbearable guilt that will make you regret what you did and did not do. Have I gone crazy? Maybe. But at least I didn’t ruin anyone’s life like you did mine.

The Reason Why I Left (Or Am Leaving)

I’m writing this because I know I’ll forget it won’t be clear to me when the day comes that I have to leave you behind. It had been an amazing four years. But just like any relationship, or anything for that matter, all good things come to an end. Most of the time I feel like I’m just waiting for…I don’t know what. Something to happen. Because right now nothing’s happening and all I’m doing is waiting for your beck and call. I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want you anymore. Sure, I’m family. We’re family. But the gaps that we have created over time cannot be ignored. The others will stay. The others will persevere and succeed just like I did. But my time has run out. I look at the door and I feel so afraid of leaving, but at the same time I don’t want to regret not taking chances just like I did with you.

I’m tired. I’m gonna be honest that I’m terribly tired and while that isn’t your fault entirely, you’re still responsible somehow. You have your flaws and I wish you knew that. And stop making excuses. I’m tired of you. I don’t want to leave angry but sometimes you make me angry with the way you treat people. With the way you think you’re high and above all of us. How you put on a happy facade to make people feel bad and instantly do a turnaround to show people you’ve gone through bad times as well. People don’t care.

You made me, sure. But you also made me bitter and angry and frustrated and I want to stop being that person. I want to stop being frustrated at your scattered thoughts. Your dreams with no plan. Your impulses. I’m done. And this isn’t working anymore. I hope you can find someone who will understand you the way I don’t. I doubt it, though. So good luck. Good luck to both of us. Good luck to all of us.

On Falling Out

Sometimes I feel like I’d rather lose someone to death than circumstance because knowing they’re alive and well out there just hurts a tiny little bit. The thing with falling out of love for each other is that it’s never really the same for both people. For one it may be easy because of distance or conflicts in schedules or something along those lines.

It’s sad to give up. It’s even sadder to make the decision to give up. To cut ties. Especially in this time and age when it’s so easy to watch someone else’s life in pictures. When burning bridges meant deleting numbers and electronic friendships just like you would delete histories. But erasing histories that are stored in your mind, in your heart…that’s just something entirely different. It’s not as easy as clicking a button and it sure as hell hurts like a bitch. Because that’s where the forgetting comes in. That’s when you have to battle yourself and the things you thought you would never have to let go of.

We weren’t taught to let go in school. We weren’t taught that even good things come to an end. Even the strongest friendships can be torn apart by depression. Time. Circumstance. Tragedy. Death. Literally or otherwise. It’s so much easier to think that this person died and stopped existing when we fall out of love for them, or if they fall out of love for us.

Oh and there’s the missing part. The part where you loathe yourself for even thinking that maybe somewhere out there, they’re thinking of you too. THEY’RE NOT. Get over yourself. The sooner you accept that, the better you can handle your feelings. They’ve moved on with their lives. Got married. Had kids. Ran away. Landed the job of their dreams. Had their fairyfuckingtale ending. And you’re not part of it. So do yourself a favor and close that chapter. They already closed yours. It’s time to write a new one. This time with you in charge of your story. You’re not in college anymore. You sure as hell aren’t in grade school anymore so don’t compare her cute pop up pencilcase to your outdated metalbox that can silence a crowd when it falls to the ground.

Stop looking at what society or the fucking media dictates as successful. Or beautiful. Or sexy. Or smart. Be your own kind of beautiful and successful. Be your own person. Most of all, love yourself first. Just love yourself. In little, tiny ways like refusing to be someone’s last choice. Refusing people who do not deserve your attention. People who don’t deserve you.

So love yourself, okay? Love yourself because you are strong and you are beautiful. I say so and that is what I believe in.

(via getsexier)