I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.
Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.
Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.
But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.
And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.
We never know when the bus is coming.
I just want to roll into a ball and cry and cry. And I just want someone to hold me. But the one only person I’d let hold me is the one I’m crying about. What I wouldn’t give for him to hold me one more time and tell me everything will be okay and that we will be okay.
I feel like everything I loved is being sucked into this black vortex and I can’t go after it. And the pit in my stomach is sinking deeper and deeper creating this huge chasm and I’m on the precipice of falling in. I can’t fall in, I have to be stronger than that. I just wish I could offer my hand and hoist him out of the oblivion of letting go, but I can’t. He has to stay there or I’ll never grow or heal.
Now that I made the decision there’s no getting back together and I’m letting go, it’s like I’m back to the beginning. Back to talking myself through it everyday and struggling to make it past the mornings. And this time, it’s harder bc I know it’s done and gone forever.
I’d like to think we’ll talk again months down the line but my best friend thinks that’s false hope and that’s dangerous. I don’t know if I agree. A total and complete loss really bruises my soul especially when no one really did anything wrong. It just didn’t work anymore.
So many feels.
So many feels deep inside, brewing.