• I hate myself for thinking of you.

    by  • September 23, 2010 • 0 Comments

    Ever since we first me, I’ve thought about you non-stop. Just being in the same room with you makes me feel special and worthy. Cuddling with you made me feel safe. No matter the amount of time we spent together it wasn’t enough.

    Then you stopped talking to me. You ignored me. Pretended I didn’t exist. It seemed so easy for you. It hurts that I don’t deserve an explanation.

    I hate myself for still wanting to be around you. I hate myself for thinking about you, and then thinking about how you probably never think of me. I didn’t play a big role in your life. Your friendship meant more to me than it did to you. You did it out of obligation and guilt. Because you’re SUCH a nice guy.

    All I wanted was to be your friend. I just wanted you to let me care about you. I wanted to listen and be there for you. But you didn’t let me in. And I wonder what kind of person turns down a friendship from someone who would’ve done anything for you.

    I still love you, I still care for you, and I’ll always think about you. But I give up on trying to be your friend when you desperately need one.

    you think you’re so big.

    by  • September 23, 2010 • 0 Comments

    thanks for being suck a dick. when you upset me i expect an apology not even more of a wind up then you to have a go at me when i get angry. and then to hang up on me with a ‘f*** off’ is so goddamn mature of you.

    i should have learned by now that even though you have a go at me for everything being on my terms that it’s not. if you aren’t happy, the world isn’t happy.

    and that’s the way it’s gt to be.

    i wish i never got sucked into you, now i can’t get out. thank fuck i’m leaving.

    grow up.

    Mr. Right is Destroying You

    by  • September 23, 2010 • 0 Comments

    You’ve changed, and I hate the person you’ve become.

    I used to have so much admiration for you – a brave, gorgeous person who wasn’t afraid of the world the way I was, the one who saw stars rather than the shit on the ground, the young woman half the world was in love with. You seemed so vibrant: who could blame me for wanting half – just half! – your confidence?

    You were beautiful. I don’t mean physically – though you were and you still are – but in terms of where it matters: you gave and gave and gave, often in ways too subtle to appreciate at the time. My happiest memories are of just spending time with you. You have always been the one of the few consistently good things in my life.

    And now you’ve changed, and it is because of him.

    I don’t begrudge you happiness. I want you to taste joy so badly it hurts. I want you to fall in love with someone who will love you and give you everything; I want you to have a pretty house in the middle of the street and a reliable car and a job you love. I want you to have beautiful kids who I can spoil, and I want to be the maid of honor at your wedding so I can tear up when I see you and ruin my mascara. I want you to be having fun right now! Not worrying about how you’re going to buy food for two – or more – people on your shoestring salary because he doesn’t have money coming in.



    by  • September 23, 2010 • 0 Comments

    Dear Summertime,

    Thank you for being a reprieve. A reprieve from the endless tedium that is one’s everyday high school. Thank you for being made up of sunshine and cloudless blue skies. Thank you for lightening my heart.

    With all my love,

    Regrets and Recriminations

    by  • September 23, 2010 • 0 Comments

    Dear The Boy Whose Eyes Never Changed,

    There are so many things I want to say to you, if not in person then at least over the phone. But, you didn’t listen then so I know you surely won’t listen now.

    You always get aggravated with the way I feel, as if my emotions were trivial or that I have no right to them because you don’t share them. I’ve never understood that. Not in all our long years together (and apart) did your lack of acceptance ever make any sense or become easier to bear.

    You wondered why we fought so much and why I cried so much, the truth is, because I was frustrated that you didn’t listen. Oh, you heard me well enough, but you didn’t understand. No matter how many different ways I tried to say it, I felt as if I were speaking another language. I still feel like I’m speaking another language. You just can’t relate to me. And yes, you are the one who can’t relate, because out of my thirty years of life, there is no one else that has trouble understanding me. Except you.

    I know that’s why the marriage failed. I know that it isn’t a fault. You are one way and I’m another way, but three years later I’m still angry. Not because it failed but because you didn’t try to save it. Oh sure, you asked me to come home. You cried. You bought me things and held me and whispered sweet nothings. But you still didn’t try to understand me. We still fought, I still cried, and you still didn’t get it. Once, you even told me you didn’t understand and walked away. I knew then there was no hope. You didn’t care enough to change. Even though I did.


    Miss You

    by  • September 22, 2010 • 0 Comments


    It’s been seven years since we met and I still think about you.

    The last time I saw you was New Year’s Eve ’09, when he was there and things were awkward and I couldn’t give you a hug or ask how things had been.

    A lot has changed since then. I hope you’re ok; I miss having you in my life my friend.

    Take care my darling.