epistolary

Holding people away from you, and denying yourself love, that doesn’t make you strong. If anything, it makes you weaker. Because you’re doing it out of fear.

my mother assured me: when times are tough, you’ll figure out who your real friends are. it sounded like a silver lining.

My heart wasn’t supposed to break for an almost lover. But it did. And God, it hurt like hell.

Let’s forget everything that has happened,“ he said, "and start again."  And I said: "I can’t."  "Why not?” he asked, “don’t you love me enough?"  And I replied: "it’s not that, it’s that I loved you too much. It’s that I let you in too fast. Everything you did affected me in some way. Every time you tore me apart.  "I couldn’t start afresh, even if I tried. Our past has affected me in ways that I can’t forget.

It’s all about falling in love with yourself and sharing that love with someone who appreciates you, rather than looking for love to compensate for a self-love deficit.

“I kissed a painting. I kissed a painting with violent hues My heart had been stained a variety of blues My lips were smeared with a horrible blood red The art was once beautiful, but it is now dead The scribbled lines on the paper left scribbled marks on my skin Its purple ink left bruises across my jaw, stopping at my chin The shading turned my eyes into an empty, hopeless black The corner of the frame had left dents in my back It had left this disgusting bitter taste inside of my mouth The paper was yellowing and there were alcohol stains all splattered throughout I believed there was still potential because it was so raw I wanted that ice in my heart to finally thaw So I used sparkles and glitter and tried to make it pretty But it refused my renovation; it did not want my pity I do not know why I kissed it in the first place, it looked so scary I must have been sick of the old and ordinary Eventually I left it alone, it was too overwhelming That painting was too arrogant and too condescending It soiled my clothes, my shoes, and my hair It had blackened and adulterated all of my air”

It is a contradiction, I suppose. I cruel paradox, as an overweight girl to feel so, so small when told I am told I take up too much space.

If we should never see each other again, then all I ask is that you preserve the memory of the girl you once knew. If by some chance, you should remember me from time to time – then remember me the way that I was; young and happy and free… Remember my imperfections through nostalgia’s softened lens… let them blur and merge into everything that you loved about me. Don’t remember when I cried… just that I laughed. Don’t remember how difficult I was to reach – only that I was incredible to hold. Remember the curve of my smile, or the glint in my eye whenever I would look at you or the way that moonlight looked upon my skin. Because perhaps in a way, it is a blessing that you will never see me aging… that you’ll never know when my health is failing… so don’t imagine me ever changing… Remember me always as the girl that I was… remember the way that I loved you… and remember that I always will…

I used to say ‘what will people think?’ '
But, it’s my life.
 I don’t care what people think. What they think only affects them, not me. 
So, let them think what they want.
 But, let me live like I want.’

You remind me of the stars in the sky Because I don’t ever want to stop looking at sky And I don’t ever want to stop looking at you You’ve captivated my mind my heart and my soul the flowers from previous woes have now grown into beautiful roses as beautiful as it seems I’m finding it hard to breathe because reality has hit me and I know I can never call you one word, mine.

But how does anyone have a favourite song? How can they choose? Mine was always you. My favourite song was always whichever song reminded me of you.

Let’s go on a road trip.“ I wanted to say, "I’ll pack a toothbrush and you bring the camera. "Let’s drive to new cities where we’ve never been, and fall in love with the noise. Let’s set up camp at the bottom of a mountain; go hiking until we reach the sun. Let’s fall asleep along the beach and wake up with the ocean at our feet. "Let’s laugh at the way we get caught in the rain. Let’s kiss under a hundred trees. Let’s wake up at 5am and watch the sunrise, or wake up at 11am and let the sunrise watch us. I wanted to say, "Let’s fall in love like it’s the first time. Let’s pretend to meet again. Maybe this time we’ll be able to work things out. Maybe this time we won’t mess things up.”

He looks at me and says, “god, I’m so terrified you’re going to fuck me up.” He does this half laugh. “You know why?” I shake my head. “Because 80% of people don’t stay together but I keep imagining old me and old you taking walks on a beach somewhere. "And if we don’t, I’ll have that image stuck in my head forever, and it’s going to fuck me up.”

I’m...I’m sorry, I just this minute realized that there are people out there who have no idea that Heinz Doofenshmirtz is the best fictional father out there. You guys don’t mind if I bombard your entire dashboard with proof right? Excellent.

We are a big blotch of a blot on a paper because of a pen held on too long. The emotions were there. Hard. Unwavering. But then, we hesitated. Like a word about to be written that turned to an ink stain. We’ve waited for the right moment. We had the right love, but we failed to make any moment perfect. So instead of a poem well written, we became words that were left unsaid.