♥ B.e.l.i.e.v.e ♥

I don’t miss you as much anymore. Sometimes you cross my mind but not like you use to. I remember when I thought that I couldn’t live without you and looking back on it, you were the best and worst thing that happened to me. Its been hard, its been so hard to get over you but looking back on it time passes, and the more you live your life and create new habits, you get used to not having a text message every morning saying, ‘Hello, beautiful. Good morning.’ You get used to not calling someone at night to tell him how your day was. You replace these old habits with new habits. As time goes on, you get better, but only with time. You still see them and a spark is there, your mind still races when you see them, its going to, you use to love that person with every inch of your soul, with every emotion you could possibly have. Its just not the same anymore.

Goodbye was always the hardest part, and it is already tearing me apart even though it hasn’t happened yet. The ache in my chest is already there, the tears already spilling down my cheeks and onto the page.  I already miss the man in the office; the man who isn’t mine but at the same time is; the man whose hand holds my heart without knowing it; the man who has held me together for the last three years.  It’s the same man who probably won’t remember me in a year, who probably doesn’t think about me unless he sees me, the man who won’t be impacted by my leaving at all.  I’m okay with that though; I would never wish this type of pain on any other person, especially not the person whose happiness is all I want.

I miss you. That doesn’t change. It’ll never change. No matter how much I seem to ‘move on’, I will never stop missing you.

You’ll tell yourself it’s his fault, though you’ll wonder if the poison in your heart was always there, just waiting for the catalyst.

I never really did like the way my glasses looked on me. But you told me I looked really good in them. From then on, I always reached for my glasses, thinking they made me look better. When I put on lipstick, I remember the way you said “that looks good on you” so I would spend time trying on different shades of red, wondering what you would think of them. The way your eyes lit up when I put on the black dress, and when you told me I looked so great it in, made me think I looked my best in that dress. I would put it on and stare at myself in the mirror, thinking of when your hands were wrapped around my waist and your eyes were staring into mine. Every time I put on that one shirt, I remember how it was your favorite. You loved the way I looked in that shirt. I wore it a lot, for you. I still wear it a lot, hoping you’ll notice me in it. You always made fun of me because my socks never matched. Now when I put on a matching pair, I want to show you. I know that sounds weird, but it seems like a thing between us. You’re everywhere. Everyday. How can you forget about someone when they’re everything you see? How can you lose feelings for the person whose name is the definition of every feeling you’ve ever felt? Tell me, please someone tell me, how to stop this pain. Tell me how to stop thinking of you. Tell me how to stop making my life about you.

What am I supposed to say, when I’m all choked up and you’re okay?

For you I’d bleed myself dry

The thought of you forgetting my name in five years breaks my heart.

You have to accept that sometimes that’s how things happen in this world. People’s opinions, their feelings, they go one way, then the other. It just so happens you grew up at a certain point in this process.

I want to hate you. I want to hate you so badly. I want to despise every inch of you, to feel a burning fire of disgust ignite within me when you so much as inch into my thoughts. I want to pick out every one of your flaws, to hurt you and humiliate you so much that you even feel a fraction of the pain you’ve caused me. I want to see crash and burn and to be able to sit back and laugh, to announce that karma’s a bitch and that you deserved it. But every time I hear your name, my heart still beats that little bit faster. And every morning I wake up, I still hope it was all just a bad dream. I want to hate you. But I can’t. And that makes me feel so fucking sick.

It was easy to love him. Loving him was like watching rain patter onto the window of my car. He made me feel comforted, deep in thought. It was late night conversations about the future, and promises that we would always be in it together no matter the circumstance. It was memorizing the outline of his freckles, and the space inbetween his fingers. Inheriting his laugh, and falling into his words. Loving him was easy to fall into, he made it that way. But leaving him was another story. Leaving him was like pouring acid down my veins. It was countless nights wondering if I was just overthinking or if the red flags I saw were real. Leaving him felt like I was ripping out my lungs, which makes sense because I haven’t been able to breathe since I did it. He thought that it was easy for me, but it wasn’t easy being hurt time after time. Broken promise after broken promise. It wasnt easy to choose to grieve over someone still alive.

You talk to someone everyday and can’t imagine your life without them, then suddenly you don’t talk anymore and all you have left is your memories…