"I don’t think people love me. They love versions of me I have spun for them, versions of me they have construed in their minds. The easy versions of me, the easy parts of me to love. Who’s going to love the girl that can’t stop crying? The girl that hurts herself? The girl that is losing control? The girl that is so sad she can’t get out of bed? The girl that keeps pushing everyone away? Who’s going to love the monster in me, who’s going to love me now?"- (via wordsthat-speak)
i’m at a crossroad…
are you supposed to stay? that’s the left road.. you are not… that’s the “other direction” road… i can’t say the word ‘right’, even though it doesn’t mean ‘correct’. it seems, well, incorrect. this fork, this crossroad, has me unnerved. which one is it? and how to tell? is it bad, that i’m sort of glad that you forgot your phone? you’ve been emailing me… but i’m not sure even if i’m responding, not after you told me about you don’t know what you think of my hair. i’m fine with just losing contact with you for a few days, clear my head. i don’t know what to think anymore. you’re supposed to love me no matter what. and i to you. we make the exceptions for the ones we love. "we accept the love we think we deserve,"
so am i happy? i don’t know anymore.
i cut all my hair off. the boy who i seem to be dating but in his eye we’re not yet but….we’re dating… doesn’t like me cutting off my hair. i look like a boy, says he. or a dyke. i’m sorry….. WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK. IF YOU KNOW THAT I DON’T LIKE WOMEN THEN WHY THE FUCK DOESN’T EVEN MATTER?!?!? i don’t think it’s fair to limit hairstyles or clothing articles to a “type” of person. sure, somethings don’t look good on everyone, but hey, if you love it, then flaunt it. so i hack off my hair. it’s my body, my life, if you don’t like it, then wave goodbye?
i be gracious and send him a picture, and he doesn’t say a damn thing about it. now i’m not expecting or needing you to shower me with compliments, but even a “hey it looks nice” would be fine! so i try to tease him, saying “what you’re not even going to acknowledge that you got the pic?” “oh yeah got it, i need to see it in person reminds me of my roommate” and then “sorry, just didn’t know what to think about it yet”
are you fucking kidding me? if you know him at all, you would know this is basically him saying he doesn’t like it. gee. thanks. i’m not expecting you to love it…. but remember…. you tell me you ‘love me’ if one loves someone, you love all of them, not just 30%, you love the good and the bad. not worth my time. so no, i don’t know if you’re making me happy.
"Delete her number.- (via great-eudemonia)
Stop ringing her. Stop messaging her. Stop making excuses to see her, to drop by her place.
Erase her name from memory. Remove yourself from her life, more completely than you would like but as completely as she deserves. Move on, so that you can allow her to also move on. When you close your eyes, you don’t get to see her face. Not anymore. You don’t get to think about her lips, the warm glow of her skin when she rests next to you, or how she squeezes your hand in her sleep. You are not allowed to remember the smell of her perfume, that she only drinks mint tea (with two dollops of honey), or that she loves you.
She loves you.
She has been in love with you for too long.
So, forget how she says your name. Forget how she calls your name. Forget how she screams your name. Forget that time you got sick and she stayed up with you all night, letting you lay your head in her lap and holding a cold compress to your forehead. Forget how her hair feels in your fingers. Forget how she looks in your sweatshirts.
Know only that she existed at one point in your life, but relinquish all hope that she could exist at another point — sometime in the future that you are unwilling to specify because you don’t know what you want. Yet. It is not fair for you to swoop in and out of her life as you choose. It is not fair for you to say that you are satisfied with “things as they are” and you will have time to “figure it out” later. Let her stop investing emotionally in you. Let her pour that love and care into the people who deserve her.
Don’t tell her that you think about her all the time. Don’t tell her that it bothers you to hear about her with other people, but that you’re willing to understand as long as she likes you more than them. Don’t tell her that this isn’t the right moment but that there will be a right moment. There is not going to be a right moment. She shouldn’t have to wait for the right moment.
Don’t tell her that you can’t handle ultimatums, that you don’t like the idea of finally adding finality to your relationship — whatever still remains of it.
What you are telling her is that you want to keep her on as an option, that you are taking her for granted, that you want to know she will be there, that you can depend on her at the end of the day. When you find that no one else has stuck around or that those who have are less interesting, less thoughtful, or less doggedly loyal to you.
Doggedly loyal to you.
That is what she has been to you, for you almost as long as you have known her: a constant emotional crutch, the guarantee of stability, a safety net while you reachvout to grasp objects that sparkle and shine far greater than she does. All that glitters is not gold, haven’t you heard?
She is fire. You are ice, and you are afraid that her slow burn will smolder your cool, hard demeanor. That’s what has driven your decisions, your actions all along: fear. You are a coward. You are a hypocrite. You are terrified to let her go, but you are afraid she is too good for you, that she could drive you wild, that you would choke on her flames. That she is too much for you to handle right now.
But if you choose not to love her now, you can’t choose to love her later."