"I’m with someone I really do like but I still have this deep deep feeling that I’m meant to be with my best friend and he’s with someone else." /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
the first time you met her, the air left your lungs
in a tsunami. i remember because i was
sitting beside you, like always, and
you suddenly looked like you were drowning.
i remember you saying “i have to talk to her
or i will surely burn up”
and i just said
the first time she and i spoke, i looked for broken bits
of her, just little things i could latch onto so
i could tell myself in the late nights that i had
but it turns out she is as lovely as you told me
and i don’t hate her at all because she makes you
genuinely happy and later when she and i had become friends
we got drunk together and she confessed “i was originally scared
you would steal him” and i started smiling but she continued, “but
there’s no way that’s happening”
and i just said
the first time i met him he reminded me so much of you that
i couldn’t stop talking to him and even though his mouth
tasted like lemon cleaner and glue
i still kissed him in the dark night looking to see if i could
replace you because he’s a good guy and probably would make
some other girl very happy but i just wanted to feel
regardless of who was handing it out and
i regret that so much because you laughed
when you saw the hickies and bitemarks and said
“thank god i thought you were gonna be alone forever”
and i just said
you love her you love her you love her why do those words make my bones feel like a broken ink cartridge why do those words hurt me so badly why is it that i want you to look at me with even a teaspoon of the love in your eyes that you give her i mean even if you’re alone with me it’s clear your heart is with her it’s so painfully obvious that she’s your stars and i’m just a stone in the garden where you grew up i just want to be loved like that with that power you shine on her with all that great white stormcloud fury but when he said “i love you” all i could whisper was a small and broken “oh”
in the late night he and i sat by the lake and kissed each other and i closed my eyes and he let the silence get long before he asked me if i had ever loved you and i thought about watching you grow up and how when we were little you were too scared to go anywhere without holding my hand and how when we were teenagers you used to text me every night because your hands shook while mine stayed steady and how you always come with a joke and a smile and how when you fell for her you broke the laws of physics and fell harder than newton could calculate and how if she makes you as happy as i’ve seen then i will keep you two together at all costs because you’re the most precious thing that’s ever happened to me and i must have kept silent for too long because he repeated “do you love him have you loved him all along” and i had to rewire the atoms in my tongue and suffocate my soul just to force out a very quiet “no.”
“I told him everything about my past. He promised he would be different than the rest; he wouldn’t leave. But I can feel him distancing himself from me. They are never different.” /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
Stage One: You only trust others in the way small animals trust humans: you take flight as often as you can and leave them with the taste of feathers in their mouths. You do not bring people to where the nest of your heart is, others do not get access to where the broken eggshells of your soul lay scattered around. Instead you are bright white smiles and laughter and a wit so sharp a lover could cut themselves on it. This is a mask so well-fit that recently one of your friends said, “You’re like the happiest person I know,” and you didn’t even flinch.
Stage Two: They somehow stay around long enough that they notice your wings are clipped and you limp when you walk. They ask and you give answers that sashay away: “It was a long time ago,” “Don’t worry about it,” “You should see the other guy.” They can smell the blood but they don’t know where it’s leaking from. You are learning to let them in but goddamn it’s dark in here and you know better than to turn on the lights so they stand on your front porch and knock at your door and you pretend you’re not home. You say to yourself “they just think I’m broken and they’re looking for someone to fix they have no idea how bad it is.”
Stage Three: in the back of class or before a movie or in the middle of the woods, you slip up and they see it. it’s always something different. sometimes they catch the way your eyes turn dead when you think nobody is looking, sometimes it’s your sleeves riding up, sometimes it’s the untouched lunch. they bring it up or maybe they don’t but it kills you that they know. a lot of them ask if you’re okay and you say “yeah, of course” and then that’s the last you talk of it.
Stage Four: for some reason, they stick around even though your presence is poison and slowly staining them. they become your lighthouse, your breadcrumbs, your way home. you think maybe it’s time to open up but when you do, invariably you’re drunk or high or dead tired because even though you love them you would never be in your right mind to admit to the demons. you spill out of your outline, just a little at a time. they learn you, they watch you, they keep you sane, and then in the late night, you finally make that mistake and fill their ears with your story from start to finish and have to deal with the look that crosses their faces.
Stage Five: I actually don’t know what it’s like to be with someone who knows all of you and yet doesn’t leave. If you find out, please get back to me.