sigh

Every person I’ve ever loved has some how become toxic to me. A living, breathing reminder of why I was always better off alone. I love too hard, too quickly and then sometimes I don’t love enough. I guess I’m just bad at love.

Her eyes now were imploring, soft, and at the same time trustful, caressing, timid. Her eyes were a light hazel, they were lovely eyes, full of life, and capable of expressing love as well as sullen hatred.

I know soon you’ll forget the sound of my voice and what color my eyes were. You’ll forget how much I loved music and how I loved your blue sweater. 
Soon you’ll see me as a stranger; walking by without recognizing me 
you won’t even know me while I’ll be getting drunk, trying to forget your name.

Maybe one day you’ll come back. Maybe you never will and that’ll suck, but you can’t keep doing this. The blame and the self-loathing and the bull[crap]. I can’t watch that. It makes me hate you for hating yourself. I don’t want to lose you. But I’d rather lose you if it means you’ll be happy. I think if you come back with me today, you’ll never be okay. And I’ll never be okay if you aren’t. I need to know that there’s a way for people like us to end up okay. I need to know that there even is such a thing as okay, maybe even good, and it’s out there and we just haven’t found it yet. There’s got to be a happier ending than this, here. There’s got to be a better story. Because we deserve one. You deserve one. Even if it doesn’t end with you coming back to me.

Two people who were once very close can without blame or grand betrayal become strangers. Perhaps this is the saddest thing in the world.

This is the strange way of the world, that people who simply want to love are instead forced to become warriors.