(via okay)
“ It didn’t mean anything, right?”
It’s dark and warm, and we’re both sweating profusely in the humidity. Loud music plays in the background, creating a unanimous heartbeat, and lung-clogging smoke fills the air around us.
We sit close – too close to be just friends, but not close enough to be anything more. As we talk you hold my hand, tracing my thin fingers along your smooth jaw. You bring them to your lips and kiss them softly – again, again. Our minds are foggy and our words are slurred but we understand each other perfectly, so when I open my heart to you and let everything flood out all at once, like a gushing stream, you nod and nod and I know you understand.
You kiss my forehead more times than I can count, and then both my cheeks and my hands and my forehead all over again. Between the smoke and the music and the sweaty bodies, nobody pays attention to us. So when you tell me that you love me and you’ll always be there, I lean forward to kiss your smooth cheek without a second glance. But, when I slowly pull away you turn your head and suddenly our lips are intertwined and how did this happen?
It’s not rushed and slobbery like the other kisses of that night – it was soft and slow and intimate, and it had meaning of some sort.
But it was wrong. We couldn’t – we can’t. Nobody can know and if they find out, we’ll say we don’t remember – we’ll blame it on the hazy vision and the blurry mind and the slurred words, because it was wrong.
So, when you confirm with me, panicked and doubtful, that it didn’t mean anything, I don’t know what else to say.
“Right. ”
— it meant something to me
“ Today marks three months since my last therapy session. Three months since I became able to cope with the simple tasks of everyday life on my own. Three months since I’ve been able to lead a (somewhat) normal life. Three months since I said goodbye to the person that I no longer wanted to be, and hello to a new me.
There have been bumps and jumps and many relapses along the way, that’s for sure. Days are hard and nights are harder, but the difficulty of the climb makes the view so much more worthwhile, right? I’m still trying to find myself; trying to find the person that I want to be. I’ve hard my heart filled with joy and smashed to the floor more times than I can count, and I’ve fallen hard and fast for someone I never would’ve given a second glance in the street.
I haven’t found myself, but it’s been three months since I set out on my own. ”
— It can’t all be bad, can it?
“ I pushed you away. I was scared.
I never expected you to move on. You did.
I’m watching your world spin faster than I ever could’ve imagined while mine remains frozen still. ”
— Why did I let you go?
“ Do you want to know why I’m mad?
I’m mad because I’m me.
I’m mad because I always say too much or not enough.
I’m mad because even my self hatred can’t prove to be enough to fully control me.
I’m mad because I overthink.
I’m mad because two years was too much.
I’m mad because six months wasn’t enough.
I’m mad because every decision that I’ve made since that day has affected every current moment of my life.
I’m mad because I’m not enough.
I’m mad because I think too much about what she said - I’m mad because I still think about it.
I’m mad because other people have more control over me than I have over myself.
I’m mad because I still have to see him every day - still have to face the demons that I thought I’d put to rest.
I’m mad because I’m not popular yet not unpopular - the terrifying limbo inbetween.
I’m mad because I’m not smart and I’m not dumb - another limbo.
I’m mad because the thing I’m best at I’m not even good at.
I’m mad because a number determines my future.
I’m mad because I don’t have the capacity to deal with simple things in my life and that labels me as ‘ill’.
I’m mad because I thought that ill would make people aware, when all it did was make people judgemental.
I’m mad because I’m second best to every person in my life.
I’m mad because every day I am triggered by people, places, things, and I can do nothing to control the absolute terror that overcomes me.
I’m mad because I’m not pretty enough, I’m not smart enough, I’m not sporty enough, I’m not 'fit’ enough, I’m not nice enough, I’m not open enough, I’m not outgoing enough, I’m not loud enough, I’m not quiet enough, I’m not good enough.
I’m mad because I’m me. ”
— me
“ This goddamn anxiety is killing me ”
— i can’t breathe
(via nakedly)
“ I fear that when you leave so will a part of me. ”
— a cry for help [e.s]
“ Last night I dreamt about you. Was it a dream, or a nightmare?
It was urgent - everything was urgent. I raced to your house, pushing past the people in the crowded streets, because I had to see you. I had to see you. I ignored everything in me that told me to turn back - I had being doing so well without you. But I had to see you.
I raced through the streets, adrenaline pumping through my veins and pushing each and every step. I appeared at your front door, and I knocked urgently because I had to see you. The door opened and there you were - there you were.
Your hair was a mess and you looked tired, but your face split into the most amazing smile once you saw me. You ushered me in urgently, because I had to see you.
We sat in your room, with the light streaming in through the window and illuminating your face perfectly. I had never noticed how bright your eyes really were, or the way your cheekbones slanted across your face.
I smiled at you from across the room. Why was there so much space between us? I felt so far away from you. I feel so far away from you.
You smiled back at me.
It was a moment of pure bliss - a moment where everything slipped from my mind and all that I could see or hear or think about was you. A moment where it all went away.
But then it all came rushing back to me.
Tears began streaming from my eyes, and I shook my head as I tried to contemplate how I could go on - how I could do this at all.
You comforted and consoled me from across the room. Why was there so much space between us? Were you really there?
You wore a navy blue quarter-zip pullover. You tugged it over your head, leaving you in a white t-shirt. You held the jumper in your hands, and passed it to me. You said to keep it as something to remember you by.
Slowly. I unzipped my own jacket slowly. Your eyes trained on me. I pulled my t-shirt over my head slowly. Our eyes were in a trance. I slipped your jumper over my head and let it hang off my body. Slowly.
I sighed and breathed in. It was you. I needed to be surrounded by you.
There was a knock at the door, and a second later people flooded into the room. You said that it was time to go.
I hugged you tight and long, because it was the last time I would ever be able to.
I cried, harder than I ever thought I could, because how would anything make sense without you?
I felt you slipping away, so I held on tighter. But you were pulled away, disappearing into the crowd, and you were gone.
Last night I dreamt about you. When I woke, I felt nothing but emptiness. Because I had nothing to remember you by. ”
— it took me too long to realise how much I really love you
“ But the truth is that it’s you. It will always be you and nobody else, and I’m not quite sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing but frankly I don’t care because it’s always been you and it always will be you and I couldn’t change that even if I wanted to. ”
— a cry for help [e.s]
“ Envy runs through my veins like poison - pouring it’s toxicity into my brain like a leaking tap. The truth is, I never thought I’d envy you. But you have the one thing that I thought I always would, and now you are all envy - I am all envy. ”
— you have him [e.s]
“ The thought of someone finding out what happened that night is scaring more and more with each passing moment, and each breathe I take in feels like a dagger to my throat. ”
— i’ll be gone if someone finds out
(via nakedly)