he jests at scars that ne'er felt a wound
I'm conflicted.
1. It irritates me when people are clingy. Okay, not "people," but certain people. People who have no right to be clingy should never get clingy. Whatever it is you're trying to do, you are pushing me farther and farther away from you. And I mean far, i.e. our good neighbor the Centaurus A Galaxy.
2. You bring me laughter. Joy. You lift me higher, both physically and metaphorically. You make me smile when I am angry, and you make me laugh when I am tense. And yet, I've lost you. I pushed you away. I won't say it was a fool's mistake, because I had to do what I had to do. At that moment and in that time, that was what I needed to do. I do wish you could be happy, and I do wish I could be a part of that happiness, but I don't want to ruin it for you. Why do I care at all? I hadn't thought I would, but I do. In short, this blows. You conflict me. Why are we always on the same wavelength? Sometimes I think--but then no, you don't need me. If I told you, you would hate me, for putting you through so much. For making you suffer. For playing with your mind, perhaps. I almost wish we could have taken it slow, but then we wouldn't have been so unbelievably blissful. Maybe if we had slowed it down instead. Well, the past is past. Here you are now, better without me. Let's see what the future brings.
P.S. I love it when you lift me up.
-I didn't start off this entry with the intent of doing this number thing where I talk to people without talking to people, but to list what was going on with me and why I was conflicted. However, this was the way it turned out, so this is the way I shall continue.
3. I remember one summer, perhaps two years ago, when I said hey and I was about to give you a hug because I hadn't seen you in a while. You surprised me because I thought you would be shy, maybe give me an awkward pat. Instead, you pulled me in, picked me up, and spun me around in a dizzying circle. I never would have expected that. I remember I stumbled because I didn't see it coming, but you held on and wouldn't let me fall.
4. What a surprise, you've descended all the way down to number four. No, honestly, I would think you were at least two or three. I'm not sure if I really have anything to write anymore about you. I have spent so many pages, so many hours thinking, writing, typing out my heart to rid it of you. To cleanse it. Not of filth; no, you are far more valuable than dirt. A jar of dirt and a bleeding heart. No, not of filth, but of...your essence. Your aura; the mark that you have made upon me. The jagged scar that you dragged down my soul, your serrated dagger newly sharpened, specifically for me. Oh, I do not lie when I say you have brought me pain and anguish, though laughter and fond entertainment as well. Hours on the phone with you, and you never gave me the briefest second of your time when I was the one in want, and why? Why now, clever fool? It boggles my mind. Why make an impact when I have spent so long, scrubbing, erasing, trying to be done with you?
Honestly, am I kidding myself? Will I never be done with you? Is it because you were the first and only person that I have ever been in love with, that I will always, always remember? Will I always be vulnerable to you? I am so afraid that I will never shake loose; will never be free of the grip that you unknowingly hold on me. Why is it every time I think I am through with you, I am wrong? Why am I wrong? To begin with, I had thought I had nothing left to say about you. A number for you, yes, okay, a sentence or two; you deserve at least so much. But two Verra-be-damned paragraphs, and I am only getting warmed up.
How could you let me fall for you?
The rising dawn. Call me your surrogate sister, but I assure you your sister could not have loved you so terribly, so painfully. I sound like a damn love-struck schoolgirl. Damn it, and damn you. There was always something more, something missing, something in the way. Ergo, it was not meant to be. Was not meant to be. Could not have happened. Could not be. Did I irritate you? Did I go too far? Was it something I said? Will someone slap me, please, before I become an overeager fool that I might hate? I am a fool, and you are my gold. And I kept on, kept on waiting for you to say everything's okay, but I guess you never did because you never really felt that way. She'll always be more than me. You'll always have a piece of you missing, because you gave it away. You'll always mean more to me than I ever will to you. I'll always have a piece of me missing, because I gave it away, too. The only difference is that you never took it. Here, take it please, just don't break it. So of course you did not break it. You just tossed it over your shoulder into a bottomless pit; into the endless black abyss. You could not be concerned with such petty, trivial matters. They cannot touch you.
How could you let me fall for you?
I wish that you had told me, had said something, had not wanted to destroy me. Because the fact that you are still, well--I never knew. All you had to do, really, was say one word, and I probably would have been there at your side. Why? Because you're you. And I couldn't let go. I have tried so hard, so hard, to put you away; I have never cried for you but I might die.
How could you let me fall for you?
I sound like I'm still in pain. I'm not, though.
In a way, it was like...unfinished business.
I don't know if it will ever be finished. It's possible.
5. I wonder.
Are you in love with him?
This applies to two people. One, to whom I try to pretend I do not care, when of course I do, at least a little. And two, because I want to know if you stand a chance. And three, to whom it does not apply, but because it surprises me that you, of all people, would be the one to be that chance.
-
"And do you love him, like I did?"
"More."
1. It irritates me when people are clingy. Okay, not "people," but certain people. People who have no right to be clingy should never get clingy. Whatever it is you're trying to do, you are pushing me farther and farther away from you. And I mean far, i.e. our good neighbor the Centaurus A Galaxy.
2. You bring me laughter. Joy. You lift me higher, both physically and metaphorically. You make me smile when I am angry, and you make me laugh when I am tense. And yet, I've lost you. I pushed you away. I won't say it was a fool's mistake, because I had to do what I had to do. At that moment and in that time, that was what I needed to do. I do wish you could be happy, and I do wish I could be a part of that happiness, but I don't want to ruin it for you. Why do I care at all? I hadn't thought I would, but I do. In short, this blows. You conflict me. Why are we always on the same wavelength? Sometimes I think--but then no, you don't need me. If I told you, you would hate me, for putting you through so much. For making you suffer. For playing with your mind, perhaps. I almost wish we could have taken it slow, but then we wouldn't have been so unbelievably blissful. Maybe if we had slowed it down instead. Well, the past is past. Here you are now, better without me. Let's see what the future brings.
P.S. I love it when you lift me up.
-I didn't start off this entry with the intent of doing this number thing where I talk to people without talking to people, but to list what was going on with me and why I was conflicted. However, this was the way it turned out, so this is the way I shall continue.
3. I remember one summer, perhaps two years ago, when I said hey and I was about to give you a hug because I hadn't seen you in a while. You surprised me because I thought you would be shy, maybe give me an awkward pat. Instead, you pulled me in, picked me up, and spun me around in a dizzying circle. I never would have expected that. I remember I stumbled because I didn't see it coming, but you held on and wouldn't let me fall.
4. What a surprise, you've descended all the way down to number four. No, honestly, I would think you were at least two or three. I'm not sure if I really have anything to write anymore about you. I have spent so many pages, so many hours thinking, writing, typing out my heart to rid it of you. To cleanse it. Not of filth; no, you are far more valuable than dirt. A jar of dirt and a bleeding heart. No, not of filth, but of...your essence. Your aura; the mark that you have made upon me. The jagged scar that you dragged down my soul, your serrated dagger newly sharpened, specifically for me. Oh, I do not lie when I say you have brought me pain and anguish, though laughter and fond entertainment as well. Hours on the phone with you, and you never gave me the briefest second of your time when I was the one in want, and why? Why now, clever fool? It boggles my mind. Why make an impact when I have spent so long, scrubbing, erasing, trying to be done with you?
Honestly, am I kidding myself? Will I never be done with you? Is it because you were the first and only person that I have ever been in love with, that I will always, always remember? Will I always be vulnerable to you? I am so afraid that I will never shake loose; will never be free of the grip that you unknowingly hold on me. Why is it every time I think I am through with you, I am wrong? Why am I wrong? To begin with, I had thought I had nothing left to say about you. A number for you, yes, okay, a sentence or two; you deserve at least so much. But two Verra-be-damned paragraphs, and I am only getting warmed up.
How could you let me fall for you?
The rising dawn. Call me your surrogate sister, but I assure you your sister could not have loved you so terribly, so painfully. I sound like a damn love-struck schoolgirl. Damn it, and damn you. There was always something more, something missing, something in the way. Ergo, it was not meant to be. Was not meant to be. Could not have happened. Could not be. Did I irritate you? Did I go too far? Was it something I said? Will someone slap me, please, before I become an overeager fool that I might hate? I am a fool, and you are my gold. And I kept on, kept on waiting for you to say everything's okay, but I guess you never did because you never really felt that way. She'll always be more than me. You'll always have a piece of you missing, because you gave it away. You'll always mean more to me than I ever will to you. I'll always have a piece of me missing, because I gave it away, too. The only difference is that you never took it. Here, take it please, just don't break it. So of course you did not break it. You just tossed it over your shoulder into a bottomless pit; into the endless black abyss. You could not be concerned with such petty, trivial matters. They cannot touch you.
How could you let me fall for you?
I wish that you had told me, had said something, had not wanted to destroy me. Because the fact that you are still, well--I never knew. All you had to do, really, was say one word, and I probably would have been there at your side. Why? Because you're you. And I couldn't let go. I have tried so hard, so hard, to put you away; I have never cried for you but I might die.
How could you let me fall for you?
I sound like I'm still in pain. I'm not, though.
In a way, it was like...unfinished business.
I don't know if it will ever be finished. It's possible.
5. I wonder.
Are you in love with him?
This applies to two people. One, to whom I try to pretend I do not care, when of course I do, at least a little. And two, because I want to know if you stand a chance. And three, to whom it does not apply, but because it surprises me that you, of all people, would be the one to be that chance.
-
"And do you love him, like I did?"
"More."
coming from a caroliine @ 15:20
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