how do you write every second you're alive?

I woke up

with a scream still on my tongue

my throat still choked with sobs

my hands clenched

my face wet

I feel dirty

for even subconsciously having thought of you

my cotton candy girl

as someone who could be malicious

who could scoff at my tears

who could sleep with someone else

when the tear in my heart is still bleeding

the blood hasn’t even started to clot yet

I am still standing on that street corner

outside the fucking university parish

still have not caught my breath

still giving coworkers tight smiles as they walk by

fingers trembling to stutter out a text to a friend

to rescue me

get me the hell off this corner

now, please

unwilling to look into your wide, sad eyes

I never wanted to see your beautiful baby blues tinged with regret

You wrote so many apologies for so many things but I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for anything that happened between us except that I ever made you believe that my love for you was so shallow that I couldn’t love you as my boyfriend just as much as I loved you as my partner and my girlfriend.

I knew, you know. That you were my boyfriend. Maybe even before you did. I didn’t say anything because i never wanted to seem presumptuous, as if me, in all my cis (ish?) privilege could somehow understand your gender identity more than you.

But i knew. And maybe i should have said something. I knew the day you told me that princess was still an okay pet name. I knew that you were lying but i took your word for it, didn’t transition to principe because I wasn’t sure if using masculine names was going too far. Meri jaan, i only ever cared about the first part of that phrase. As long as you were mine i would love whoever you were. Of course i would.

I used to think we understood each other so well, opposite sides of the same coin, but when you finally talked to me, as you were breaking up with me, finally fucking talked to me for real after months of radio silence, i felt like you ripped the floor out from under me. How could i have not known? And even what i did know, how could i not have known that there was more, always more?

I loved you with every fiber of my being, the way that only naive teenagers can love, head first, all in, no take backs. Maybe i was blinded by that sweet naivety, missed all the signs that there was something more going on than a rough patch.

The only reason i didn’t put up a fight when you broke up with me, the only reason i didn’t cry and yell and scream at you that I’d love you no matter what, is because i knew you were doing what was best for you. And i had to believe that you knew what you were doing, that you weren’t just trying to spare me or some ridiculous chilvaric bullshit. Because i know you know better than to make decisions for me, jaan.

And i know you still love and respect me enough to let me if you ever change your mind about that decision.

And maybe that’s why I always find myself coming back to you whenever someone else makes the same decision you did, tells me they need to go through something on their own, that its not me, its them, always, always them.

I find myself longing for the naive, head-first, all-in love that we had for each other. But every time I find myself drawn back to you, I remember that I never really lost that. It just changed.

I wish I had something more profound to say. Te extrano mucho, amorsito. I love you, so much, in every language.

You called our love irresponsible, and hell, it probably was. But i’ve never been known for my responsibility. And I’d do it all again. No take-backs, head-first, all-in. I don’t do anything half way. when I say, ‘we can still be friends,’ i mean best friends, I mean call you at 4 AM and listen to you breathe, I mean my phone is set to ring for you even if its on silent, i mean that there will always be a place for you, in my house and in my life. When I say ‘we can still be friends,’ i mean: i got you and you got me. and I don’t know what that’s gonna look like as time goes on, but i know that i will always love you in some way, shape, or form.

thank you for being my first love, for teaching me what it means to love selflessly, unconditionally, all-in, no-take-backs.

always yours,

I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed, or even what you wanted.

Three whole words and eight letters late, I can’t bring myself to be sorry for falling in love with you.

I need to be on the bus in 10 minutes but I’m in bed, still, unable to find the motivation to move. Sometimes i wish i hadn’t quit my old job, so I’d still be able to call in from work without having to find someone to cover me.

If you were here you’d be up and about, in the kitchen making coffee, rolling your eyes at me and stealing my blankets so I’ll get up and get dressed. Making omelets with eggs you only bought for me, setting out coffee and a container of sugar that’s also for me.

I never thought I’d miss someone making me coffee and nagging me out of bed.

You asked me if it was enough time when i told you that i love you. As if i wasn’t completely gone for you when i heard your dorky little laugh on our first date.

I have this completely self destructive of jumping into things, head first, no take backs, throwing everything i have at people that cannot carry the full weight of my love. The habit of falling in love with people who are works in progress determined to do it on their own. And I never put up a fucking fight. I love you all too much to do that. I step back, say, “of course, baby, whatever you need,” cut my love into platonic palatable pieces, easy for you to swallow, even though i’m fucking drowning.

and I can’t even bring myself to resent you, any of you, because I love you. and that was my choice. and it’s my choice to keep doing, to refuse a clean break, to make myself turn all my exes into best friends.

and then i look at you, and Riz, and B, and Isa, and i can’t bring myself to regret any of it. no matter how much it hurts on days like this.

because I think i’m the lucky one, falling in love with works in progress, and having the privilege to see them grow and flourish and become so fucking beautiful and i’m so fucking proud that you’re all mine. in a different way, now, but you’ll always be mine. and i’ll always be yours.

all my love, always,

Hello, hi, I just saw this!