darkness

I’ve spent my whole life tripping over loose ends. And it has come to the point where I have to make a choice, a self-imposed ultimatum. Do I take these loose ends and fasten them tight, Knotting them into a definite, secure end? Or do I take these loose ends and yank as hard as I can, Unraveling the mess, finding myself all the way at the beginning?

Your eyes hooked on mine as you smiled and I laughed over trivial nonsense. Your fingers laced with mine as we waited at a red light, hoping it never turned green. Your body tangled with mine as your fingers traced their way up my thigh while I found comfort under your sheets. Your thoughts intertwined with mine during 3 AM conversations as we neglected our heavy eyelids. You managed to knit yourself into every aspect of me.

A part of me wanted to pull, To pull out all of you that has been woven into me.

I wanted you out. Out of my body. Out of my mind. Out of me.

Instead I took those ends, and I tied them up. Because I’m done destroying myself over you. Because losing all of you meant losing all the lessons and good memories we had. Because despite the fact that you were the reason I spent too many nights cleaning up blood and tears, it doesn’t change the fact that you once made me the happiest I’ve been since I was 7. Because I’d rather remember the way you made my cheeks hurt from smiling so much, than remember the way my heart started pumping lead when you stopped looking me in the eye.

Before I met you I used to hate looking in the mirror. I despised it; I despised me. By the time I was in 7th grade, I already had 3 journals full of self-hate writing and drawings. The hate overwhelmed me; it became me. Cigarettes killed my appetite, But not my need to purge every time I ate more than 150 calories a day. Sleeping all day allowed me an escape from life, But not from the need to cut myself because I believed I deserved it. “Have you thought of suicide lately?” “No.” The lies kept my parents and therapists at bay, But nothing stopped the constant thought of suicide.

But then you came into my life. The first guy to call me beautiful, without having to see my naked body first. I always thought it was too good to be true. Hell, some days I still do. But whether your words were genuine or were simply sweet nothings, They stayed with me. For once I wasn’t disgusting. For once I wasn’t worthless. For once I wasn’t a mistake. For once I had someone in my life who didn’t add fuel to the fire of my self-hatred.

At first I thought YOU were the source of my happiness, That YOU were the reason I felt pretty or beautiful or worth something, That YOU were my reason to live. But with the help of you, I’ve come to wholly believe that that is complete… BULLSHIT. Because I make myself happy. Because it was always me against me, And once I came to terms with myself, There was no problem.

But don’t mistake my words, for a sudden reversal of mindset. I still feel overwhelming sadness. I still feel uncomfortable in my own body. I still feel exuberant amounts of self-loath. Because feelings are valid, and (they say) that’s how my mind works. But I no longer define myself that way. I’m slowing learning to accept myself and fight my irrational emotions. I’m slowly learning to smile and laugh without feeling guilty. I’m slowly learning to love without feeling guilty. I’m slowly learning that little mistakes are okay to make. I’m slowly learning that harming myself and taking everything out on myself is not how you deal with problems.

Thank you. Thank you for helping me grow. Thank you for wasting as much time as you did on me. Thank you for being my friend despite how much it drained you.

(OKAY FUCK IT I WASN’t GOING TO ADD THIS LAST PART BUT FUCK IT :p)

I love you.

Just like end dates were your secret, loving you was mine. I was meticulous about it. Never EVER saying it to you. Not it texts, not in birthday posts, not even in my writing. The ONLY other time I ever said “I love you” in my writing was when I finally let you go. Love is such a heavy word. I’ve never loved anyone else this way before. But, I love you.

I’ve friendly loved you. I’ve romantically loved you. I’ve sexually loved you. But the love I have for you now is different. It’s the “I care about you still, even thought I’m nothing to you.” love. It’s the “I hope you’re doing well.” love. It’s the “I love you.” love.

Sometimes I still think about you. How you are, how you’ve been. I hope you’ve been good; deep down I know you have. Ever since I completely let you go, I’ve been doing so much better. I haven’t cried since, I’ve been getting healthy amounts of sleep, I’ve been letting my friends back in, I’ve been thinking about my future.

Yet even though I’m completely over you, I still have questions. But these questions no longer haunt me like before. They simply stand as unanswered questions that may never be answered. I once thought that the answers of these questions would be what gave me closure. But I was wrong, because I gave myself closure.

You said you cared, but you still were able to completely cut me off from your life; did you just stop caring? Why did you stop caring? Did you ever really care? Do you know that I broke my promise to you? Do you know how seriously I took that promise? Why did you just decided to cut me off out of nowhere? You do realized that the last time we talked in person you fucked me right? Do you ever plan on saying goodbye? Did you ever think how much doing that hurt me? Do you ever think about me? Was everything you said about me true? Do you hate me? Have you already moved on to another girl? Are you happy? Do your parents hate me? Did you cut me off because your dad caught us and your 18? Do you regret me at all? Will you ever talk to me again? Will you ever add me back on snapchat? Did you block my number too? Will you ever follow me again on twitter? Do I ever cross your mind at all? If I sad or drunk called you a year from now would you pick up? If I texted you would you respond? Why was it so easy for you?

And then there are the: Do you still wear sunglasses all the time? Do you still crack your knuckles and neck ever so often? Do you still have the burger king crown I gave you? Do you still have all those ugly, embarrassing screenshots of me? Do you like the place you’re moving to? Do you have a roommate? How are your dogs (ohhh I miss them)? Do you still have that fucked up sleep schedule? Is Sweeney Todd still your favorite musical? Is The Notebook still (one of) your favorite movie? Have you started meditating? How is your philosophy going?

I guess loving someone means hoping that they are happy, even if it means it’s without you.

You no longer control my heart or mind, but you will be with me forever.