it's your absense that makes me want you more
it's your presence that reminds me why i even care
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i don't care how much you love your family,
your friends, that boy you can't stop thinking about, that job that you kind of tolerate, that project that fills your soul, don't forget you need to be selfish that you need to make your world revolve around yourself you're not a saint for putting them all first, silently hoping for the same in return you're not the victim for always saying you deserve more but giving yourself less don't assume someone or something is going to prioritize you it's a privilege so don't anticipate it like a right when you give your everything don't be surprised if it doesn't come back whole expect whatever you hand off to potentially come back broken be ok with it let that be the expectation sometimes there will be exceptions when you can only give pieces and someone gives you far more than you can reciprocate and it'll be nice maybe it'll feel like too much but cherish it remember it's rare so please don't forget you need to be selfish that you need to make your world revolve around yourself she thinks she needs it
him anybody filling her emptiness tracing and digging into her insecurities a softness she's only witnessed on hard screens but her lack of original words to describe something so intimate means she really doesn't know what she needs i don't want it anymore
the promise that it'll get better that life is beautiful that there is so much more to experience that they all believe in you i don't fucking want it anymore i don't think you get it i'm fine if this is all there is i don't need more i don't want more i don't think i'm ever getting more i don't want it anymore i pray every night for it to be my last
for the blackness to suffocate the emptiness the severity to mask humiliation the end to mellow into peace my dreams, a permanent escape from me ok, so you tried to be there for her
you checked in to see how she was doing you promised her that she was going to be ok you hugged her tight you said you loved her you said you believed in her you said she was fucking amazing you made plans she didn't keep them she didn't keep them she didn't keep them you loved her to death it just wasn't enough I dreamt that he held my hand and it was easy.
We were watching a movie of some sort. On a couch, looking forward, surrounded by young kids He gently embraced my hand with his Under the blanket And though I hadn't known him for long I hoped we could stay that way forever. It was her last day and she didn't know it yet.
She had been quite unhappy for a long while, lost in the overwhelming blur of the future and feeling incredibly finite by the past. It was her last day, and had she known, maybe she would have been happier in her ending moments: no future to run from and a past that would be rendered inconsequential. A brief, weightless present she could truly feel and maybe enjoy. It was the end of hinted potential but also a sigh of relief for the suffering always felt more real than any fading hope. I find it sad how people want so many things, and deserve a good lot of them, but often don't get much of it in the end.
I find it sad how despite best efforts, sometimes you can't help when someone falls and when you end up falling as accidental debris. I find it sad how words carry so little weight, and how, these days, actions are starting to feel just as trivial. I find it sad how broadly defined "love" is: just because you love someone or have a lot of love to give doesn't mean you treat them right or doesn't mean you get love in return. I find it sad that the world simultaneouly thrives and declines around comparing your situation to someone else's often leaving the former feeling like what you have is not good enough. I find all these things sad in a sobering this-is-reality way, not in a tragic end-of-the-fucking-world way. And as quickly as it all came,
It went. Blame her tendancy to put significance on the minute Because hard feels familiar And easy, skeptical A self-fulfilling prophecy. Tries to catch herself before these papercuts get deeper It's a sting A tiny mistep Don't make it more than it ever was Don't let the hurt be disproportionate to the joy Don't let anything not be worth it Use it Use them Hell it feels like they've already used you. Wanting to be jaded, But knowing that would only give them the satisfaction If she can't be content Then no one can bitch It's on |
"I'm afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are."
-Alice Kingsley Archives
September 2020
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