you want them to text back but that's anxious attachment isn't it. it's just that you can feel on the wind when you're not wanted anymore. when they've fallen out of love in any small part of their marrow. you have a hawk's eye for disharmony. you can tell when she has begun packing her things.
don't be annoying. you want to write: i have never experienced unconditional love as an explanation but isn't that pathetic. in adulthood all love is conditional and it should be. you've been to too much therapy. touch grass. how sappy can you be.
but they don't reach for your hand while they're driving. they forget to ask you how you're doing. the call times no longer read 12:34:19. they're 30 minutes and perfunctory before she says baby please, i'm tired. i need to go to sleep. where in her life do you fit. why is it that you never fit into anyone's life very long. oblong creature with so many needs, spilling up and out and over everything. it's a fucking shame the first time she said she loved you it was for your independence. and now look at you.
hollow pit in your stomach, body shaking. fuck, not again. you're not going to ruin another relationship like this, codependent and toxic, spiraling. and in the other half of your brain: if that's your wife, wouldn't she want to hear it? wouldn't it be fine? wouldn't she just comfort you and you can both move on and nobody dies?
but you're crowding her! read another instagram Positive Vibes Only type of post that talks about calming your heart and your brain and your body. try to sit in silence. the thing is that you do have a life outside of her, remember? go back to it.
great news, your parents fucked you up and now you have no idea how to deal with love. you just keep wanting to be chosen. to be real to someone, all the way through. real and kept. held closely. seen as precious to somebody. why even is that? didn't you always swear that people can and should complete themselves? why are you so constantly driven to beg for love, doglike and barking?
it's just the tiny things. it's just that you have to weigh every silence and sentence like bricks on an exposed belly. you have no idea how to shut it off. every alarm bell in your body saying: this isn't safe. start scrambling. she's already going.
i'm not going to let myself
have a new crush
not this soon
not on her
i'm not going to let myself
like a girl so painfully straight
and break my streak
of not liking girls who could never
like me
but what happens
when i catch myself thinking of her
or looking for her
or lighting up, briefly,
at her name on my phone
when she's creeping up on me
like the first sign of spring
six more weeks of winter
i can't go any more days without her
but i promised
no more girls
not right now
definitely not her
shut up, heart
words may never truly express
the gratitude i feel
to have travelled to
the depths of despair.
after all,
it brought me you.
the combination of unlikely events
flutter in effect, endlessly changing
the possibility of what could be.
even then, i'm still content.
it brought me you.
isn't that enough, then?
tribulations and uncertainties:
i shed my past "self"
in the aftermath.
it was all worth it,
because
"it brought me you."
d.b.a
for s.
trying to think of something to say
for international lesbian day of visibility
i love women
happy lesbian day :) <3
love is my sister
saving me the last of the
blackberries she had
she texted me minutes after i posted this so
who's delulu now
disappointment
when my phone buzzes
and it is his name
and not hers
Y'all have gotta get more insane about platonic relationships like you are about romantic relationships. We need to get more annoying about them NOW. I need to see more meta and losing our minds over them. Get more annoying NOW. More than that. More than that also.
why didnt anybody tell me
that growing up
got so hard
Here is some ✨ i n s p i r a t i o n ✨ and ✨m o t i v a t i o n✨ for anyone stuck in a creative slump.
there is something so nice
about having a new crush
someone new to look for
in the hallways on the way to class
someone i can tell my friends about
someone to text and to giggle over
i wish that the butterflies
could always be so uncomplicated
shaking hands
fallen hair
three inches, five, seven
i look in the mirror
a person looks back
not her
me
women's hearts are lethal weapons did you hold mine and feel threatened
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