no one talks about when you have to breakup with someone you still love. is it because it’s uncommon or because it’s something that you’re supposed to conceal? it’s not a normal ending, you sit there breaking someone’s heart while simultaneously breaking your own even though you know it’s for the best. when it’s over where does that love go, because all i feel is it sitting next to the guilt- i can’t believe i hurt them, why didn’t i just give it a little longer, this is my fault. and the regret- what if it was the wrong choice, maybe we could have fixed it, i want them back. but you know things weren’t working, you know love isn’t always enough.

““Does the final blow hurt the most?” I ask. “Or is it the many times before that? I feel like you’re somewhat prepared for the last hit. You’ve built up a resistance to the hurt, like each blow created a callas to your heart. It doesn’t so much as hurt, it’s more like something inside of you breaks and you know it’s time to walk away.””

i remember crying about you. i remember sliding down my wall and slamming my head against the goddamn wall, trying to figure out where it all went wrong, why you were pretending you didn't know me. i remember the angry stage. i fucked him and made sure everyone knew, including you. i hurt you, i knew it. i thought i didn't care anymore, i had managed to put your clothes in my closet and i didn't listen to our songs. i thought i had moved on. then someone texted me about you and her, asked me if i thought you would hurt her. i knew you fucking would, but i defended you. i have always had your back, and i think i always will. i saw you tonight after a long six months, and you still smell like sandalwood, vanilla, and home. we had so many close calls, eye contact kept for too long or spiked breaths when you got too close. i felt like i did that first date in the movie theater last year. when you invited me over tonight i promised i wouldn't let this happen but suddenly we were in your basement suddenly your hands were in my hair suddenly the bed was under me, and i let you. i didn't realize i loved you until tonight and i feel sick. you pulled back and i could feel the tears on your face because you know this shouldn't be happening. i asked you where it all went wrong, why we didn't work. i could've made you fucking happy, i could've protected you, i could've kept you safe. but you shut me out because boys like you don't want to be held, boys like you want the cold. im in an uber right now, choking it all back and pretending i didn't see you smile at me in the dark. i felt the goodbye in our last kiss and i felt the longing in our last hug. you stayed silent when i said i'd see you again sometime. i know this is the end but if for some goddamn reason you come across this, i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i want you to be happy and i guess i have to accept that won't ever be with me again. it was just for a night. i won't tell anyone, i promise. i don't regret you, just maybe 2 am wasn't the time to try again.

"I get it. Heartbreak sucks, and you don't want to feel that ever again. But think about how happy you were when times were good. You want to feel that again, don't you?"

“Perhaps the saddest thing of all, Is that for so long, I thought if you saw how you had broken my heart. If you saw what you had done to me, you would be overcome with this rush of emotion, that you would regret leaving me. You would regret that you had let the world hurt me. But now I know, that you don’t care that you hurt me. You only love yourself.”

You’ve survived for 18 years.

maybe she's born with it