What have you done to me?
At first I refused to share my heart, but you became the exception. You left your mark, your fingerprints, as you caressed my poor heart. It pumped ferociously, more than ever before. My poor heart desired you and only you. I was wrapped around your finger.
Now my heart aches as we grow apart. The days grow darker as my heart gives up. You have left me with an open wound. A wound I must care for myself. A wound that only stitches can fix. My poor lonely heart.
You’re gone and you’ve left your mark on me. A permanent scar that cries to be freed.
27 May 2017 ML
I broke it off. Whatever it was we had. I dropped you from my life as if you weren’t a part of me. At least that’s how I think you saw things happen. But you’re wrong.
I let you go thinking it was what was best for you because you tried too much and I was not trying enough. I am difficult to catch because I am difficult with myself. I was impulsive and it will haunt my heart forever. I let you go because I thought what I felt was just an infatuation. But this time I was the one that was wrong.
I made myself look weak yesterday. I told you I missed you, but you didn’t say it back. I hope you’re trying not to look weak and maybe that’s why you won’t open up to me anymore. We agreed on continuing to message each other daily. It’s hard. I get a lump in my throat every time I receive a one-word message from you. And that’s most of the time now. You say you’re not mad and that I didn’t hurt you? I guess I am hurting for two then. I cry knowing that you’re fine without me. You seem to put no effort. Aren’t you afraid I’ll stop trying too?
I let you go even though I knew you wanted me so badly. Now that I know I have lost the best part of me, my heart is heavy. I am not mad at you and I do not feel betrayed by you. I am just frustrated with myself for letting you go.
I let you go and now my tears have filled that missing part of me.
23 May 2017 ML
This has been happening more recently.
Actually, this has only happened recently.
I lay in my bed thinking about us. Is there even an “us?” It is so incredibly difficult for me to read your mind. The guys I’ve talked to before you are nothing compared to you. You’re not simple. But I still want you. I don’t know how to make you happy forever. I can’t call you cute because you don’t like it. I can’t call you handsome because you try to joke about how I must’ve mistaken you for someone else. I can’t set an alarm in the morning to tell you “Good Morning” because the first thing you reply with is “why are you awake?” Now, you know I’m not an affectionate person. I don’t like to hold hands. I like my space. Am I to compromise? But I want to be able to wake up to cheesy things from you. I like you so much it’d mean a lot. You do it sometimes. And when you do, my heart feels full and vibrant and I can breathe better. But I’m afraid you already love me. What is there to love? You’ve accepted every inch of my soul. My aching soul. But will your love eventually surrender? This is but a plea for your eternal love.
Because being with you takes my fear of the world away. I want you to tell me you want me. And I want you to mean it. I want to stop trying to read your thoughts and instead hear them directly from you. I want to feel so confident with you that my anxiety has no place in it. But I fear that the more I explain this, the less it makes sense and the more you push me away. I fear that you will give up on me soon. But you’ve given me so much time to better myself. I’ve given up on myself first.
Now I lay in bed. With thoughts of only you. You are my safe blanket. But what am I to you?
17 May 2017 ML