Scattered pages from the life I wasn’t given.

And i know there is a small town girl wanting to get to the big city madness.

And still to this day, when i make that first pancake a little burnt, I imagine him walking into the kitchen and snatching it up, like it’s his favorite🤍

in a life you already moved on from.

I say it to quiet the ache, or maybe to prove I can be kind to myself.

The word “heatwave” reminded me of Grease - that kind of summer love that’s too intense to last. What a clever little prompt, thanks to; @wrentalks , @picklemafia

It means I still live somewhere in your head, even when I’m not trying to. 🤍

I mean look at us, dancing around our words Like the idiots in love we are. Careful hands, careful sentences, The kind of eye contact That means everything and nothing Depending on who’s watching. We both know it’s wrong. You ought to know it’s wrong - When it feels so right. Maybe the grass is greener after all this time. Maybe it grew wild, While we looked the other way, Tending someone else’s garden, Planting roots where we never really belonged. We say we’re just talking. We say we’re just catching up. But my phone lights up and I smile too fast. You say my name like it still fits in your mouth, like you never gave it up. Tell me - Are we crossing lines, Or just pretending they don’t exist? Because we haven’t stopped thinking about it? I mean look at us. Still orbiting. Still pretending the gravity’s a coincidence.

Hey mom, I think I might go back to school. Hey dad, I applied to college. Hey mom, I got into college! Hey dad, I graduated!! Hey mom, I got the job!!! Oh - right. I know you don’t know. Maybe you’ll see it on my socials, When my friends congratulate me. Or maybe you won’t. I know you’re busy with your new family.

People keep telling me I’m strong. I keep pretending I agree. I eat my pride with a plastic spoon, and call that dinner. I’m not bitter. I’m just full of things I wasn’t allowed to say at the time they were happening. If you ask me how I’m doing, I’ll tell you I’m tired. That’s the polite version of "Please don’t leave, but also don’t get too close." I’ve learned to be fine in lowercase. Because uppercase always asked for attention no one had to give. So I’m quiet. And healing. And angry. And fine. All at once. That’s the truth. And I finally know how to say it.

Today is my birthday, did you remember? If I count the years by who didn’t show up, I’m older than time. Thank you for the text reminder, How thoughtful of you.. Although a call would’ve been nicer. Wouldn’t dare ask for a coffee date - Even this day, the one with my name on it, Still couldn’t make it onto your calendar. It’s like clockwork — the hope, then the letdown, And still, some part of me hoped you'd show up. I hate birthdays. Because I never felt celebrated, Because the cake never tasted like home, that was of my own. Someone else always picked the flavor, Someone else always blew out the candles first. Now I don’t even like cakes, or birthdays, I trained myself out of wanting them. It's safer that way. But sure, you texting me is fine. Happy 25th to me, myself & I.