Fear.

I fear that things are irreparable (or perhaps that I am trying to hard to repair them).

Nap.

I needed a nap one day, as I so often did then because my body was recovering from the damage I had done before you loved me. You looked at me fondly,

“Go ahead, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

I didn’t know yet, and I closed my eyes, curling around those words. I believed in you and my sleep was sound. When I awoke, the anxiety set in. A dormant feeling, roused by some slight shift in the way you regarded me. You smiled, but you didn’t reach out for me. So I reached out for you. You recoiled ever so slightly, and took my hand stiffly. The feeling grew. I sat up, dropping your hand, tugging at the bottom of my shirt and inspecting the fibers. I didn’t want to ask.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

I twiddled my thumbs, silently praying there wasn’t.

“How did you know?”

I didn’t. But you told me anyways. You had slept with her even though you promised you wouldn’t. I left. That was the last time we felt normal. 

I am quick.

I am quick to let go.
I am quick in my anger and my disappointment.
I am quick to lash out when you hurt my feelings.
I am quick to hide when things get scary.
I am quick to shut down when things get hard.
I am quick to say “I’m fine” when I am not.
I am quick to keep you in the dark.

I am slow to say I love you.
I am slow to say I miss you.
I am slow to let you know exactly how I feel.
I am slow to wrap my arms around you.
I am slow to let you in.
I am slow to burst out in affection.
I am slow to let you really see me again.

And now you’re gone, and I am quick to fall into bad habits. 

Connection.

I just want to feel connected to you again. I don’t want to date you. Or flirt with you. I don’t want to fuck with your happiness. I just want to feel like I know you again. I want to feel like someone out there really knows who I am.

I wanna hold your hand.

The littlest, and single most important, thing I’ve taken for granted. Because there is nothing more comforting than when someone takes your hand in theirs.

I would find my way inside your coat. Claiming to be cold, but never really so. I would wiggle until we were perfectly molded around each other, and I would press my lips against your cheek. You would whisper “I love you” and I would feel like the luckiest girl in the world. You were mine and you were beautiful.

I would find my way inside your coat. Claiming to be cold, but never really so. I would wiggle until we were perfectly molded around each other, and I would press my lips against your cheek. You would whisper “I love you” and I would feel like the luckiest girl in the world. You were mine and you were beautiful.

(via 20somethinginthecity)

“I’m still the same me I always was, I’m just not yours any more.”
whatsleftofmeisyourstokeep
We used to lay in bed together, reading. The same book sometimes. We would read aloud to each other. Mostly I would read, and you would listen. Sometimes you would fall asleep in the middle of a chapter. Sometimes you would distract me. Now, sometimes I miss it.

We used to lay in bed together, reading. The same book sometimes. We would read aloud to each other. Mostly I would read, and you would listen. Sometimes you would fall asleep in the middle of a chapter. Sometimes you would distract me.

Now, sometimes I miss it.

(Source: audreyhepburncomplex)

luvs2duit:hairlesscat: You weren’t physically present. But I could feel you. If I closed my eyes, I could feel the soft touch of your lips to my shoulder, and I would think “If only I could turn around quickly enough, you’d be there,” but no matter how often I tried, no matter how fast I turned over in my bed, you were never really there. But oh god, I felt you every night.

luvs2duit:hairlesscat:

You weren’t physically present. But I could feel you. If I closed my eyes, I could feel the soft touch of your lips to my shoulder, and I would think “If only I could turn around quickly enough, you’d be there,” but no matter how often I tried, no matter how fast I turned over in my bed, you were never really there. But oh god, I felt you every night.

(Source: bodhisattva-belladonna, via nymphoninjas)

hennnypotter: this. i get that relationships -platonic as much as romantic- require work. effort. give and take. balance. but one shouldn’t feel as though they’re constantly fighting. repeatedly having to prove themselves to friends and/or lovers. to have to pledge on the regular. to feel as though every  conversation is a test, every meeting an inspection. will i make it? am i good enough?? will i pass?? a friendship that has you in a constant state of doubt is not a healthy friendship. fuck that. get out. been there. done that. and p.s. for the record, i was a GREAT friend. i just wasn’t a great girlfriend or psychiatrist or sponsor or you. i didn’t know i was signing up to be all of those things.

hennnypotter:

this. i get that relationships -platonic as much as romantic- require work. effort. give and take. balance. but one shouldn’t feel as though they’re constantly fighting. repeatedly having to prove themselves to friends and/or lovers. to have to pledge on the regular. to feel as though every  conversation is a test, every meeting an inspection. will i make it? am i good enough?? will i pass?? a friendship that has you in a constant state of doubt is not a healthy friendship. fuck that. get out. been there. done that.
and p.s. for the record, i was a GREAT friend. i just wasn’t a great girlfriend or psychiatrist or sponsor or you. i didn’t know i was signing up to be all of those things.