[ s ]

 I told you and you fell short of the mark and that’s okay - it isn’t like I love you in the way that anchors you as you drift through your anger. It hurt, but it didn’t because I wasn’t expecting anything in return. I didn’t want you to tell me that you wished you could alleviate my weight akin to how I carry your sketchbooks when your tiredness starts to seep into your bones. I am overflowing with a forgiveness that is nestled untidily under my palms. I touch you and I understand why. But it is suffocating, to be so full. I think about cutting myself open and scooping it out with the same harm-inflicting hands. I am hollow in the wrong places and I must put my kindness back inside so that I can maybe hurt a little bit less. I am drowning in forgiveness and I will pass it to you through my open wounds, I will take it out on myself so I can still successfully long for a life where you find contentment. It’s not with me; I understand that now. I pick up jokes far too late. I am embarrassed, but I know this error and this shame already, I will not lose the purest love that you might no longer deserve. I am kind; forever and ever I am kind. I need to be hollowed so that I can replenish my goodness and start again. So I no longer feel sick sitting next to you. 

gonna revive the tumblr trust

At the same time, it’s a blessing to be able to sink into memory so easily. I’m alive in all of the moments of my life in different times; maybe I wasn’t present then but I’ll be present for years afterwards when the cadence of someone’s laugh reminds me of the tapping of the rain while I’m in the living room, aged ten, excited to go to bed and imagine anything and everything that I want with no one asking me anything. Getting into my room in the evening and there’s no reason to have to regulate my mind, I can fall down any rabbit hole I want and forget what I’m thinking about to think about something new and something old and something borrowed and something blue. Memory is my funny thing. I’m always in there, retracing your lips or touching your hair. I may not feel good now, but I felt good once, and I can go back forever. 

btw he doesnt like me anymore

I dont even know how long you've been in my life anymore, when it ended with her and started with you, when i fully became entangled. i dont know why i love you so much that it scares me, that it scares you too. i'm sorry it's consuming me, i'm sorry you think you don't deserve it, i'm sorry that i begged you to say it now instead of later so i wouldn't have to relive it like last time. Say that you don't want me anymore. Say it to my face. You knew what you did when you left me and you still let it happen and I still love you anyway. You didn't even say that you were sorry. you dont regret it and you still want me and you know what you did and youre not sorry. Where does that leave me?