skinny love

i'm not the type to hold on to hate. i want to, but i know it just isn't who i am. instead i think i'd rather write.

i have thought about it, and i really think the best moments we had were early mornings on our bikes. you would quietly shower and eat, i would stretch and throw on my dress. just riding through the streets at 7 am, pausing at our corner for a kiss, and you heading out to work, pedalling fast. simple words and glances, the sky woke us up together.
i never got back in bed on those mornings, couldn't sleep. i just smiled and smiled all day, until you were back by my side at night.

that bicycle will never be anyone but you, that black dress will be that summer. i will have to deal with those thoughts next spring, i suppose.

my patch of sky

going home acted like a cast, holding me still, setting the breaks. phone was ignorable, and the tv put me to sleep at night. i forgot about the mindless hum of television, soft and dull, crackling away and strangely connecting me. i did like the fireplace though. i sat in front of it every day, trying to get my blood pumping. now i am back. my bed has never felt better, i need something soft for the hard lines i seem to have acumulated. the window never looked bigger, i will need the sunlight.

he showed me the power of the future, the idea that i can be above all this. and i still believe in that much.
i know i am sad when i place it all in tomorrows. but hope is something i have for myself, regardless of losing hope in others.
when what you think you knew is no longer, you either go into reaction mode or the way of a new plan, to get you up and out.

i mostly just want to be alone, i want nothing familiar, because the unfamiliar can't build you up or let you down. maybe i will read again, maybe my brain will start working soon. words might do something, or maybe my eyes will just gloss over, as they have for months now. numb it or overfill it, nothing in between. you have seen to taking away any grey for me.

it is what it is, he would say. you are damn right.

a joke, what a fucking joke. just when i think, maybe.. no, this is just fucking ridiculous.

i still cannot believe that this is your decision. you decided to do this, and you knew the consequences. you saw more worth in this decision. you deemed this the best choice.
well fuck your honesty and your respect. i don't want either, i don't want anything.


i am skipping new years all together, sleep right through until mid january, until it's so cold there is nothing else but to be frozen.

i fucking get it okay, you win.

hollow man

bumped into this guy from my past, way past, in the liquor store. whiskey in hand on a monday, and you wearing a suit, shiny black shoes. leather gloves and heading to a dinner party, 'i'm in charge of the wine'. you, looking at me, like you couldn't believe it was me. i'm making akward jokes, you barely crack a smile. i remember your bmw, your poolhouse, your rich friends.
how far have we all come, i wonder what you think when you see me. but you don't see me, no.

and jesus christ just because i blew you when i was 16 does not mean i want to have lunch with you at 22. yea, we should do this again sometime!!
we are worlds apart, i don't even want a glimpse, not for a second.

haven't you heard, i can walk through walls

i am going to run a half-marathon in the spring.
and maybe a full marathon by the fall.

and then i will just run and run and run and never come back ! one more semester.. let the plotting begin. i'm gone.


and a little later on she adds..

a pile of half-read books lies next to me
half-knit scarf on the radiator
half-written words, dying to be finished
but i don't know what comes next.

my minds changes in 20 minute intervals.. ha, i am just a girl.

cleaning my room i found my receipt from calvin klein, could i be any more cliche, buying lingerie. where is my gin

parents

she brought me a case of Perrier and a case of clementines. and a few more nice things i didn't ask for. she brought a minute for a smile. eat some eggs, drink some tea, pretend that everything is okay. 'what should we get Becky for Christmas, this coffee is strong, how was the game last night Dad'.

i think he sees it in me, that i am realizing the weight of the day to day. but instead he said i looked healthy.
strange, i have never felt sicker.

it's like he knows that i finally know that this is all bullshit. he knows it too, but we smile anyway.

keep pretending, so no one asks questions.
'you are still not over it?'
..........


3 am texts, am i supposed to ignore the meaning those tiny words hold?
i crave for a night when i can pretend a little easier. let some cheap wine do it's magic, keep my head from working too well.

since when is it November, fuck this

i fell asleep in the afternoon yesterday, woke up and it was dark, woke up and the clocks were off by an hour, barely waking up, sore throat.

going to bed at sunrise, then 'what are you plans for the day'
wearing some other girl's coat home and eating an egg salad sandwich.