there are 17 inches of fresh powder in utah today
i still miss you
i am trying to be happy
and i am trying to give you space
and neither is working
when you are guillotined
it is said that the head can continue to live
for up to seven seconds without the rest of the body attached
but there was once a chicken that lived for years after its neck had been severed
more people drown in the bathtub
than are killed by shark attacks
when you look at the sky
you are actually seeing 8 minutes into the past
so when you fear the future
remember that you still have what came before
and when things get heavy
that you can live
and have lived
past the cutting of your throat
i miss talking to you. i do not know how to explain this to you in person or over text without sounding like a miserable needy asshole. i am a miserable needy asshole. that’s probably the reason.
i just want to be friends text me about random things i miss you,
i hate you.
i don’t actually hate you. i keep trying to tell myself i hate you, because then maybe i’d stop compulsively checking my phone to see if you’d texted, stop running things over and over again in my head, stop bursting into tears every time i try to do something. maybe i’d stop holding the blade in my hands and wondering (i’m not going to hurt myself, i’m really not. i just wonder.)
i wish i hated you, because even though you didn’t intentionally hurt me, you did. and even though i thought i could get over it, i’m not there yet. and even though we’re trying to go back to normal, you keep hurting me. you’re so fucking wishy washy and one moment i think you want me around and the next you won’t respond to my messages. i don’t think this is abnormal for friends, to not be texting 24/7, but it was for us three months ago and i don’t know how to go back to that without it seemingly like i’m trying to get in your pants. really i just want back in your heart. maybe in your pants too, a little, if i’m honest, because i think you’re beautiful and perfect, but that’s a separate issue.
what i want, really, is to not be dropped. i still need you and i fear that because you have her you don’t need me. and that’s the thing. you don’t need me, you have her. in this situation you always win, because no matter who you chose, you still ended up with someone who loved you. but whoever you left ended up lonely and sad. and i didn’t realize the implication of that when you were going to do it to her (i think my reasoning was that she’d already had her chance and now it was my turn) so i guess it’s a fitting punishment that i end up hurt instead.
i got off topic though.
what i want is not to feel used. i want to be part of your life, not someone who’s only good when she isn’t. i’m backup, second string, and i know that, i just wish you wouldn’t call me up every time you were bored and wanted a hug or needed a ride and instead would try to be my friend the rest of the time too. i’m not asking for kissing or touching or even hugs i can do without the fucking hugs i just want to be part of your life. because you’re already a big part of mine. and i don’t know what to do.
you’re never going to see these.
i have this (day)dream where
i get out of the shower or
i turn on my phone or
and i find 17 text messages, all from you
about the inconsequential bullshit of your life
i have this dream where
my phone buzzes and all it is
is a text from you
but this time instead of “i miss [insert her name here]” it says
“i miss you”
(i have this nightmare where
i sign onto facebook and i see pictures of you and her
together and happy
except she’s a thousand times more beautiful than me and also a thousand times more interesting
and then i realize
i’m not dreaming)
i don’t think you’ll ever see this; at least, i hope you don’t. who knows, maybe some day you’ll be going through my phone, as you do, and you’ll find this, along with all the other shit about you hiding in there. you’ve already found some of it. and that hurts a little bit, because now you know things about me that i don’t know about you. won’t get to know about you.
but i want to write this letter to you, on the pretense that you’ll never see it, because i need to sort out all these feelings in my head, and i want to know, for future reference for myself i guess, what this was and what it felt like. i mean, it feels pretty shitty. but i need to get this out i think.
i think i might be a little bit in love with you, but i hesitate to say that because i’m in high school and the word love gets thrown around a lot. in fact, you said it tuesday night, not in regards to me, but still. i don’t want to say love because honestly, ‘love’ feels cheapened by everyone on facebook who claims to be in love with their s/o of one week. and actually, if i’m throwing love around, i probably am one of those people. i knew you for four months, i don’t think i can be in love with you. i can be in like with you, but probably not love, at least i don’t think so. i don’t know. can i say it has the potential to be love? you make me really happy, i think i could love you, if given the chance.
i didn’t get the chance.
but here it is anyway:
i like you a lot. i like your smile and your face and your hair, which actually smells really nice. that might be creepy. i’m not sure. your sweatshirts always smell really nice too, and i’m not sure what the smell is but i think it’s probably some sort of deodorant or body wash and i’m afraid if i smell it now i might cry. you have bony fingers and wrists and i like that, i’m afraid i might crush you if i hug you too tight. you’re funny and sarcastic and biting when you need to be and i love talking to you. i wish it wasn’t the highlight of my day. that was pretty much all physical but you’re good at card games and you can juggle and solve rubix cubes and you know things about anime and you snowboard and all of this is more attractive to me than it probably should be. you do things and you’re good at them and i respect that. you’re intelligent and kind and caring and you’ve called me perfect more than once and it still makes me cry. i told you i had anxiety and you called me perfect. i still can’t believe that. thank you.
i have all sorts of theories on why you chose her and i probably won’t ever know, or at least won’t know until after we’re no longer a possibility and i no longer have these feelings. i would discuss them here but i told myself before i sat down to write this that this would be about you and me and not her. i don’t want you to know what i think about her. i’m glad that you love her and she makes you happy and i’m sure she’s kind, or at least i hope she is, but i’ve thought some not so nice shit about her, even though i try not to. i don’t know.
but i mean the long and short of it is you dumped me, which i wasn’t even aware was possible, considering we weren’t dating. i mean you didn’t really give us a chance, but i understand that absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. i know that you love her, i think. i’m trying to not know it, but there it is.
but you confuse the hell out of me, really. you asked me how i’d feel if you picked her, i can’t tell you that. there’s probably a certain amount of guilt involved in leaving someone, even if that someone is me. i can’t tell you that i cried for two hours and then slept for maybe 4, then flew to florida, trying not to have a panic attack on the plane because i missed you. i can’t tell you that i couldn’t eat or sleep well and i’m still not my whole self but i need to at least pretend to be okay. i can’t tell you that i spent that whole first day trying not to break down crying over random shit. i can’t tell you that i’m crying right now, writing this. because these are all me things, and guilt over hurting me shouldn’t influence your decisions. shit happens.
but still that night, you said things like ‘i love kissing you’ and ‘maybe it won’t work out. maybe in the future’ or the best one ‘sometimes i wish she was more like you’. you told me i was incredible and i still didn’t win out, and i’m trying not to feel second rate, but you dumped me then stuck your tongue in my mouth. it’s hard not to feel a little used.
i keep having to remind myself that you won’t see this letter, and that i’m not trying to guilt you into anything. i’m not. i just need to get this out.
i kind of want you to see that you made a mistake, but if you love her then it’s not a mistake. plus that book i read says that it’s not love if you want the other person to feel sad, but i don’t want you to be sad. i want you to be happy, because you fucking deserve it. but i’m trying this new thing called self respect, and i’m not happy. and i just think maybe i could make you happier than she does, if you gave it a shot. it seemed like i did. but that’s probably just wishful thinking.
this is a lot of emotional horseshit and i apologize. i’m almost done.
it’s just now i don’t know where to go from here. we were friends first, and i’m so used to talking to you every day that i don’t know how to function without it. somehow you became a person i could tell almost anything too, and i want that back. i don’t need the kissing or the hand holding or the cuddling, i just want to be able to hug you and not feel guilty or scared, or text you or talk to you without worrying that i’m making you unhappy or uncomfortable. i mean i used to worry that anyway, before all this, but that’s not the point. i think i need to talk to you about this, but i don’t know how to do it without crying. i just want to see you. i miss you.
you haven’t texted me today. i wish you would.
for valentine’s day i considered buying you
because i know you like both and i like to play it safe
it’s the same way we talk about things you like
or i try to, anyway
it keeps you interested
it’s not just the way you go on and on
or the way your eyes light up
it’s that i know it holds your attention
even when i cannot
it’s easy and familiar and
i fear without it
how bad for you
i really am