I have no idea what I’m doing. In anything. I do know I love my family and best friends the most. They know who I am because they know me the best. I also know that I do have a future, and if that means staying home to do homework so I can get straight A’s, then so be it. I also know that I love to make conversation, but I hate having to start them. I know that I once fell for a guy who played with my heart, and since then I’ve been kind of messed up. I know that I’m like a lot of girls in a lot of ways, but I also know that I’m a lot different than most girls in a few ways. I know that I like to sleep, and eat, and a lot of times I’ll pick my friends over my family. I know what it’s like to be hurt, but not know how to explain what’s wrong to anybody. I don’t know where I’m going, when I’m gonna get there, or even how I’m gonna get there, but I’m going to live, and that’s all I know.
There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t, at some point, think of you. Or, some kind of memory we once shared. It’s like I look at a certain thing, hear a certain song or even eat a certain food, and suddenly I am reminded of you, the times we shared, the conversations we had, and the best friend you used to be. I know I lied and I’m sorry. I’m sorry because I miss you so much yet don’t seem to at all. Because I still hesitate and the sound of your voice, even hearing your name Because I’m trying my hardest to let things go back to normal yet you don’t even bother to put in the effort to make things work. So you know what? FUCK YOU. You fucked me over so much more than I’ll ever have the chance to do to you. You lied to me in ways that can never be forgiven and I hate you for that. What’s not fair is that you act as if your life has ended. Be sad. Be angry. Shit, be anything, but don’t ever behave so reprehensibly towards the people who clearly love you. Have your emotional crisis, but don’t cut them out. Fucking things up once in awhile is inevitable. But how you choose to deal with those fuck ups is not fated. You have free will, and be grateful that you do. Now. Move on, and find a better way of dealing with your issues. So fuck you and your mind games And fuck you for whispering those words in my ear in the first place. And who am I, who am I to be dying for your touch? Who am I? I guarantee you can’t even tell me that much. and i feel ashamed that i let my life turn into this. i used to be different. nice to everyone, no matter how much they pissed me off. if they needed help, i gave it to them. i could give advice to anyone. and sex, psht. i wasn’t going to have sex until i found someone i “loved”. and i was never going to let boys get between me and my friends. friends were for life, not just for answers to math homework. i think back to the way i used to be, the way i used to think — yeah, i was the biggest goody-goody around. but i had something to be proud of. now, it’s nothing.
So let me ask you something…is that what you call a get away? Tell me what you got away with. Cause I’ve seen more spine in jellyfish. I’ve seen more guts in eleven year old kids. Have another drink and drive yourself home. I hope there’s ice on all the roads. And you can think of me when you forget your seat belt. And again when your head goes through the windshield.
You know while sitting here writing this I felt something catch in my throat, a sudden urge of sadness that caught me unaware. It almost managed to take my breath away. that was the thing. you never got used to the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it’s okay, just when you think you’ve accepted it, someone points it out to you and it hits you all over again, and it’s just as shocking as the first time HOWEVER I cannot change the past but I can let it go….or try anyway.
And anyone who isn’t confused, doesn’t really understand the situation…cause there’s no understanding any of this. Other than just to realize he’s a fucking asshole and move on. Honestly this makes no sense at all. You’re INSANE! You never promised to stick around, so I don’t know why I expected you to. I guess I just wanted to believe you were better, when everyone knew you weren’t. At least I expected the disappointment, right? I mean, I can’t say I was surprised you hurt me once again. But I can’t say it hurt any less, either.
I feel like I should be given a sheet of paper that explains to me why bad things happen to me.
Why it seems I’m taking steps forward, but I’m really running backwards. I feel like someone should draw me a diagram explaining why things seem so perfect right before they suddenly fall apart in my hand like sand slipping through my fingers.