glowstickgraveyard

everytime i think im in love with him, i sing Norman F*cking Rockwell, to remind me of who he actually is.

I find my dream wedding dress, and take a picture. Post it. He is the first to see. As fate would have it, the man i cant have, is the first to see me in my dream dress. the irony makes me cry.

How was i supposed to know that he would be there, dancing with her. I got all dolled up, ready to dance the night away. As my feet are swept away by the music, I notice them from across the floor. she is dancing around him, and he has his eyes locked on her like she is the only one in the room. My stomach lurches, and I can't help to think that that should be me. Every part of my body wants to walk up and tear them apart. Tell him that he loves me and not her. But alas that wouldn't be the truth. Because deep down I know that he love Her not me. That no matter what I do, he will be choosing her every time. So for the rest of the night, and the rest of my life, I will just be standing on the other side of the floor, stealing glances at what could've been.

For every part of me that loves him an equal and opposite part of me cries over his damn manchild tendencies.

Xoxo- lover of a manchild

I’ve never related more to the other woman than now. Knowing that he chose her over me, and feeling as though I will never truly have his love to keep. Only simple moments of brief smiles and flirts from him. As if he was yearning to choose me instead. Knowing that none of it was real because she will always be second to her. Feeling as if i can’t let go because of those brief moments that I am forever trapped in.

Xoxo- the other woman