I saw your face once.
You spoke to me in beautiful Italian, your eyebrows were scarred from violent protests and a haphazard sense of safety. You whispered sweet nothings into my ears and took me on a journey through skyscrapers and steaming sewer gates. You left me on Saint Marks with only a free ride in my back pocket and my name in your hands.
You were the love of my life.
May we meet again in the concrete jungle.
I hope one day I won’t have to keep this anonymous. You bring me joy, laughter, and a sense that there is still a reason to have hope about the future. I’ve never been afraid to be anyone but myself with you, even from the very beginning, and I can’t say that about anyone else. I love sharing secrets with you just to create awkward moments because even the awkwardness feels right. I don’t believe in fate, but the way we understand each other must be something bigger than coincidence.
There’s something different about you, New Jersey. So here’s to a long and happily awkward life together, in any formation.
I think you might have cluster B, borderline personality disorder. I know this could be because you recently rejected me, but all the evidence is there.
The multiple close males around but having a main relationship which which s always rocky, self harm in the form of poor eating habits stemming from your eating disorder. You idolise and then reject people.
I am not a professional, but you are two-faced, you lie to everyone you know, you fake concern rarely and seem actually concerned never. You are a difficult, cold and troubled person who thinks too highly of of herself. In reality you don’t have a job and tend to hurt the people who care most about you.
For a time you were perfect in every way, both beautiful and fun to talk to, but in time you have shown your true colours.
Also you should stop drinking at every opportunity to give your life some form of excitement and meaning.
Good luck, I really hope I stop caring about you soon, so I can tell you to fuck off.
You always know just the right things to say to me or to tell me to make me feel like the biggest pile of shit on earth. It’s pretty much been like that ever since we met.
Thanks for everything I guess.
Everything about you is borrowed. Your celebrity crushes are borrowed, your style is secondhand. You rent your mother’s high school persona while she lives vicariously through you, smoking your cigarettes (can you say “family fun?”) and sharing your fetishes.
You crave fans, not friends. People who make you look better. People you (think you) can outshine.
I’m sorry I tore you down. I ended up disappointed that I put so much confidence in someone who was at the core, so very empty. I ended up disappointed in who I had become. I realize now that it’s not your fault. You were born to people who told you over and over that you were beautiful and special and unique. You were their golden child. You got new cars and new shoes and regurgitated old ideas. You had a wonderful, supportive family but you lacked one key thing: tragedy. Your life has sparkled without the true tarnish of death, disenchantment, or turmoil. And so you remain spellbound.
I’m sorry that I was condescending. I’m working on it every day. I am angry about some things that my life has presented me with, but I am not jealous of you. Think of the stories I’ll write! About drunken fights, sabotage, and self-loathing. About time, and the way it gnaws at love. About pain that bursts the mind’s shackles and unhinges the gates of sanity. About freedom and spontaneity. I’ll do things because I want to, to fulfill my deepest desires, not just for the sake of it, for street cred, or for bragging rights. I will love what I do every day.
So, no, apologies aside, I don’t want your “friendship,” but I do want closure and growth.
I hope you find tragedy and heartbreak, but I say this without a single malicious intention. I hope it forges newness and integrity within you.
I love you with all that I am. I will live for you and I would die for you. You have saved my life many times just by being yourself. I want to run away with you, because that seems so much more simple than planning a wedding that no one will approve of anyway. I wish I was brave enough to go through with it. I wish you were more emotional, and I wish I didn’t feel like you shut me out sometimes. I know you are uncomfortable with my emotions and I’m trying to hide them from you… But I just can’t. And yes, I do think I’m pregnant and I wish you were more concerned.