I’m so fucking selfish I act like I want to love him but all I really want is to ruin him We haven’t even began yet and I’m already planning the funeral The empty box of chocolates filled with letters he sent me is already in the back of my car Waiting for me to drop it off at his doorstep Just to shove the knife in his chest one last time I am dreaming of years down the road He’ll meet another girl who laughs like me and the stitches will come out and he’ll bleed again Just like the first day I left He’ll get mad and punch a hole in his wall Because he doesn’t know how to cope with the fact that the only laugh that sounds as good as mine Is mine I only saw him cry twice and I held him and swore that I’d never hurt him But the thought of him crying over my absence makes me want to kiss him a little longer before I go Just so I’ll be harder to forget I am so fucked up I want to be the girl he thinks of sitting in bed next to his wife on a Sunday morning The one he’ll tell his son about when he asks of his greatest regret He’ll wonder how I am Not enough to call, but enough to get in his car and drive two hours to the place we first kissed I just want to be the god damn love of his life But I am so fucking selfish Because I don’t want him to be mine

I firmly believe in small gestures: pay for their coffee, hold the door for strangers, over tip, smile or try to be kind even when you don’t feel like it, pay compliments, chase the kid’s runaway ball down the sidewalk and throw it back to him, try to be larger than you are— particularly when it’s difficult. People do notice, people appreciate. I appreciate it when it’s done to (for) me. Small gestures can be an effort, or actually go against our grain (I’m not a big one for paying compliments…), but the irony is that almost every time you make them, you feel better about yourself. For a moment life suddenly feels lighter….