“part Of Me Is Mad That I Wrote You Into My Stories. Because I Can No Longer Read Them Without Falling

I confuse people. i have a happy personality and a sad soul. i'm bold but shy. i love deeply but sometimes i feel heartless. i'm healing and hurting at the same time. i'm dedicated to growth, but i self sabotage

“We've had problems that we grow through”

I can still see his face as if he was standing here in front of me. The happiness, the sadness, the look that he had when he realized that he always wanted me wrapped in his sweatshirt. He looked at me like i was the answer to all of life's questions. He held me like i was the only thing he'd save in a house fire. And he loved me like there was nothing else that mattered in the world. And he fuckin terrified me, if i wasn't that important to myself how could i matter that much to someone else? Running away never worked because he was always faster than i was. Staying felt like i was being swallowed whole into the belly of his love. So I stayed balanced with one foot planted in the earth and the other flat on the pavement. I think that my uncertainty caused his to hold me a little less tightly, he didn't hold my gaze as long, and he didn't let me stand on his feet when we danced anymore. And that scared me too. It was just as hard to lose him as it was to let him love me.  “are we destined to burn or are we going to last the night?” I didn't realize that the roots that tangled around my ankle ran so deep. Because when he decided to be the one to run I couldn't break free of my purgatory to chase him. I watching his shadow get swallowed by the distance and the wind blew his foot prints right out of my mind. By the time that some one helped break me free he was half way around the world sending postcards from all the places we talked about. They began with the sadness still in his eyes as he stood alone wishing i could be next to him. But I was too slow to catch him, always one step behind with his scent lingering in the air. Eventually the happiness began to creep back into the corners of his mouth as he wrote that he was doing okay and wished the same for me. His final postcard came and she was smiling and holding the hand that used to be mine. His smile was back and he told me I should come for a visit, so i stopped chasing the ghost that i was following around the world.  “I learned in love and death we don't decide”  I returned home hoping that he would come back to visit, if his arms would ever feel empty without me inside them. But then I got wrapped up in the cigarette smoke and the city lights. I tried to dance with all the broken people i could find. But none of them let me stand on their feet and they always wanted me to take the lead. I didn't see him sneak in the side door as I clumsily took control from another . Once I saw his face I stumbled, and as I hit the ground the roots wrapped back around me as if i had never broken free of them. Two hands reached to help me back up. One that grew the root from a seed and the other that wanted to burn down the whole damn forest. And I lie there stuck wanting to let the roots and vines wrap around my entire body, wanting to give the control back, or to run from both until my lungs collapsed. How do you choose between the hand of the devil and the hand of a demon? 

I let you ruin me, and the worst part is I’d do it all again without a second thought. I’d beg for it.

A beautiful boy once told me saying love you is just habit, to say I love you is to mean it, and I’ve never forgotten that …

“I feel myself getting bad again”

— J.I. // a six word story

I wish I could see you one last time.

I wish I knew the last time was the last time.

It’ll never happen, but if it did,

I think my heart would stop beating. I think my lungs would refuse air.

And I think I’d die when you just look the other way without a care in the world.

You should’ve killed me when you had the chance, but it isn’t in your nature to be that kind…

I liked the way you let me break my own heart. I think I always knew I was safe to let you see that side of me. To see the broke down girl in the corner crying on her birthday. Because you’d always be there. But I know now that doesn’t always mean you’ll be in my life. We loved in the world of writers, we wrote each other into our stories and left them for the world to see. I will never be able to unravel you from those words, and why would I want to? In those stories lives a love so strong that it blew up so many lives. A love filled with sacrifice and two people finding their way back to each other over and over again. In those stories lives a love worth remembering. I used to compare us to the great love on the big screen, I think I was looking at the wrong ones. We found each other and burned too brightly this time around. But something in me can’t believe we won’t meet again and next time, we’ll get it right.

Because no matter how many goodbyes we’ve had, none have felt like forever.