read this shiznit. this is why we are friends. this is exactly why we connect on such a high mental level. call me crazy; but then you’d have to call her crazy too.
reprezin’ the ficcs.
New blog. Not so new situation.
I went through my old notebooks. I forget how much I love writing until I read things I haven’t finished. I really love the story developing in my mind right now, but every time I sit down to actually write it I can’t put it into words. I can play it out in my mind, picture by picture, but words can’t even convey what I’m seeing. I think because of my emotions, or lack of.
Going through one of my notebooks, my favorite one to be exact, I stumbled upon a line I had written in a poem. “Let me know if I’m just falling to get more aquainted with the ground.” I don’t know why that really hit me. I guess because of wha’s going on. I hate myself sometimes because of te way I have to obsess over things. I feel clingy. I feel needy. So I back away probably making the other person feel cold. I don’t know. Sometimes you’re not the only one who’s hurting.
You. I want to let you know something. I’m scared of you. I’m scared of what can happen. I’m scared of how fast you entered my life and how fast you tapped into my emotions. I’m scared of you because I see him inside of you. Going through my old notebooks I realized how much he hurt me. And I realized how much I was hurting myself for letting him hurt me. Sometimes when I talk to you I feel like I’m being thrown back into a place where I was naiive to my surroundings. Back to a time when a boy so sheltered met a girl who was his equal. A boy who couldn’t share his feelings and a girl who gave him everything she could. A boy who destroyed everything I thought I knew and tore my heart into pieces. I’ve never felt so hurt in my life. I’ve never wanted to die as much as I did during that “recovery”. He was my drug and my cure a long with pills and microsized cuts. It hurts to talk about it sometimes, knowing how much pain I endured. And it scares me to death that you remind me of him. But I what I learned from the first time is to keep my heart until it’s secure to share. It scares me to death, but I still want to try. My head is telling me to walk away, but my heart is urging to push forward.
All I need is a sign. Let me know where I stand in your eyes. Let me see who you are please. Because underneath that negativity I see something. I don’t know what, but I see it. Maybe from the first time we actually talked.
Oh, and before I get carried away [like I didn’t already -face palm-] I miss you. And I want to slap myself every time I think that, or say it because I really hate missing people. Just that bittersweet feeling never is satisfying and leaves this sick after taste in your mouth.
Anyways, back to writing. I think I’m going to attempt to start the beginning of that story tonight. The faces are so vivid in my mind. The settings, the feelings. They’re just pulsating through my veins, but I need to get it out. I know I’ll feel a hundred times better if I do.
We’ve found our place between an awkward space
The place where we’ve made comfort but can’t wait to get out
Cold nights. Warm days. I miss the rain.