Think. Write.

"I was used to being loved. Now I'm just being used."

There is a romance and a tragedy in life. The romance? Living. The tragedy? Surviving.

“Subconsciously, it’s still you.”

My heart can break into a million pieces but the fractures you inflicted will still hurt more.

When I Wake Up...

If I hadn’t spoken up, I’d self-destruct.

I think there was always a part of me that didn’t expect that you would ever mean that much to me. But once I realized that, I just couldn’t escape it. Every single thought, every single feeling, moment, words that I said all led back to you. I just wish you felt that way too. But then again, that’s the thing about liking someone: whatever you feel, no one else can take that away. But oh god, how I wish anyone could. But then I got over it. Eventually. I just stopped thinking. And once I did, everything stopped hurting. So now I just wish that I could erase those memories- the bitter, painful ones of you and me and what we could’ve been. Because that was all- we could’ve been something, and that was all in my mind.

In my entire life I have always seen myself as the savior. I’ve always tried to be the shoulder you would cry on, the ear who would listen to your every issue, the hands that would comfort you just after you’ve had a breakdown or the words that would console you when you needed it most. We’ve all felt that. But at one point in life, when you’re at your most vulnerable, you realize that you can’t save everyone. But you realize that you can’t be the person you never were. And it was in that moment when I knew.

Her life stood apart from her personality; no matter how much of an optimist she is, how enthusiastic she can become, how many smiles she put on, how many laughs she let out, and how much energy she has, she will never have the life she deserves.

Story Idea

You are my favorite memory, clear and distinct. In a few years, maybe you’ll become a distortion of an image I once had. Just a figment my mind created. But a real one, yet no longer tangible. And I’ll find myself reaching for that memory. And every single time, I’ll find myself erasing the true memory of you.