thoughts and decorative words

5:07 AM, Valentines Day 2017

I'm still in love with my ex girlfriend and my friend told her I got sent to the hospital because my car accident and she said I don't care I hope she dies... What do I do to get over her?? Please help me

I've been thinking lately about all the things people never say. How humans live in a constant fear of how others will perceive our words and how other people will respond. We live in such a deep fear, that we glue our mouths shut and wrap cinderblocks around our hearts, throw them to sea, and let them sink in hopes that no one will ever see how we truly feel; to eliminate all of the things we feel. I've been thinking about it and wondering how many things went unsaid. How many "I love you"'s were never said, how many "I miss you"'s were never whispered over the phone, or how many "you hurt me"'s were left to go bad at the tip of the tongue. I wonder how many times someone has wanted to tell me off, call me out, tell me they miss me, say they love me, or that they hate me. I wonder how many words were interrupted because of a fear or a voice in the back of their head saying "just don't say it." And sometimes I wonder if I say too much, said too much, or didn't say enough. I wonder if I had said more, if you would have stayed. I wonder if I had said less, maybe you would have said more. I wonder what you've wanted to say to me but didn't because exchanging words would have made it a little harder for you to live with the choice you made. I wonder if you spared my heart from shattering more by keeping your painful words in your mouth; had they have been "I still love you" or "I will never forgive you."

I stopped writing awhile ago. I think it’s time to start again. There’s so much to say. I just find that everything I’m thinking is so hard to put into words. But I’m trying, I’m going to try harder. 

this time last week I was crying because he said he couldn't lose her. today I hope he's crying because he lost me.

You're still in my dreams and we still fight about the way it ended. You tell me about how she makes your skin warm and your heart feel weak. I scream and say, "I know you still love me," and you scream back in protest. And I guess no answer is an answer within itself. Because every time I reach out, there's no reply.

I don’t know what it is or what it has been, but I can’t put it into words. There’s this feeling deep down in my stomach that aches for you all the time. I can’t really put my finger on it or explain it, but I think I still love you. I don’t know if I’ll ever actually stop loving and missing you. It’s creeping up on a year and here I am, still writing about you, still writing to you as if you’re actually listening.

When I was a child, I watched my mother and father fight. Back and forth, swinging hands, running mouths. I listened to it. I listened to every word, syllable, and phrase they hissed at each other. Sooner than later, dad was kicked out and "spending time with dad on Sunday's," was nothing more than sitting in a rusty, broken down truck in Wal-Mart parking lot. When I was a teenager, I watched my brother cry and scream when he lost his first love. He punched a hole through his TV and screamed in pain. 'Till this day, I still believe more pain was coming from his heart than his bloody hand. I watched my sister slip blue, pink, and purple pills into her purse and then watched her boyfriend slap her across the face for it. I heard her yelling and crying for him to stop hitting her, and I heard her begging him to stay. When I was 16, I met a boy who made me feel like my life wasn't so worthless. He kissed my wrists and healed my deepest wounds. I clung to him like a child clings to their safety blanket. He was mine. He was my safety blanket and I was his coping mechanism. After months passed, I clung harder and deeper, but he found other ways to clear his mind; I was no longer one of them. Now I am 18 and I realize that every version of love I've encountered has been false and blinded by something deeper than itself. I clung too hard to him, as my sister did to her drugs. I fought too hard, just as my parents did every night. And maybe I broke down too many of his walls, when I should have been building mine.

If you want to leave, then just leave. I will not beg you to stay, I will not ask for your reasoning. If you wake up one morning and are no longer happy, just tell me goodbye. There’s too little time in this world to make things more complicated than they need to be and I have begged far too often, when I knew it was never worth it. So, if you think the time is up and it’s your time to go, do so. I will kiss you goodbye and wish you the best in your endeavors.