'It sucks that we miss people like that. You think you’ve accepted that someone is out of your life, that you’ve grieved and it’s over, and then bam. One little thing, and you feel like you’ve lost that person all over again.'

'Maybe, somehow, it was always meant to turn out the way it did. You’d mess me up and get away with it, and I’d spend months trying to recover. Maybe that was the only way I’d ever learn how to take care of myself.'
— Sometimes I almost want to thank you for what you did, y.g.

I realize, that overall, you weren’t worth it. There were moments with you that made me really, really happy; but the majority of the time you shut me out. That’s why I swear I’ll try and get over you. We might have had something really great, but I guess we’ll never know. I’ll never forget the good times I had with you, but I’ll also never forget how you hurt me more than anyone I have ever known.

Would ‘sorry’ have made any difference? Does it ever? It’s just a word. One word against a thousand actions.

I’m sorry about what I said before. I didn’t mean any of it.
Fuck that, I did. I mean all of it. I’m still in love with you.
I don’t mean that. I don’t. I barely think of you. Sometimes I can’t even remember what you sound like. I’m forgetting what I thought I knew so well.
Please don’t forget me when I’m gone.
I don’t think I’ll be around much sooner.
If it all goes bad, just know that you meant everything to me.
I never did this to spite you.
I did it to save myself.

You miss someone who misses someone who misses someone who misses someone. It’s a chain of a person missing another, but never each other.

'There are songs and books
that continue to remind me of you,
and I’m afraid they might last
for a long time.

'I’m drowning in the-
shallow parts of an ocean-
with your name on it.

He is not a fucking miracle. Stop waiting for him to happen. He is not going to change just because you write him down in poetry. Maybe he is another language you haven’t heard about, and you’ve tried to let him play on your tongue but he leaves you with un ugly scar and the taste of loneliness for you to vomit it. And maybe he loves you but he is not your fucking miracle. Do not waste your time praying to God cause he is not the lightning that will hit you in the middle of the night when you crave his hands around your hips. You want him so bad but he is not your fucking miracle.
Miracles do not happen for boys like him.

I touched her hands, 
and I said they were cold, 
and she said;
then you haven’t touched my heart, darling.

'I’d rather spill
my coffee
than write about
you again.

It will burn less.

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