I don't know where all this is coming from, but I seem to be especially creative today. So I'm going with the flowing and typing like a gremlin, hoping that my falsies don't fall off, because I will chew my real nails to buggery.
When did it start being about you, and stop being about me, and it became the incessant music that never stops, no matter what I listen to. When did it become the sleepless nights because I haven’t spoken to you? I didn’t sleep last night. I miss you. I think I might love you, but I know you don’t feel the same. I know you’re only talking to me because I turned out to be pretty fit, and that makes me feel worthless, like being pretty is the only thing that matters. I have a boyfriend and a girlfriend and a million other people that would fuck me into the floor given the chance, but that’s not what I want. I want you to love me, you to be here, to hold me close and whisper sweet nothings in my ear, to stroke my hair, to laugh softly as I lay my head on your chest and comment on your heartbeat.
I want you to love me, and it makes me feel pathetic and ridiculous, and like everything that I’ve got is a sham, and it’s not, it’s really not, but god-dammit… I do love you, and the fact that I know that you don’t feel the same about me is ridiculous, and I know that there’s falling in love quickly, but shit… This feels more real than it ever has done before. More real and more passionate and more there, in some sort of ironic way, even though it’s not, it’s quite clearly not.
I’m crying as I write this. Maybe it’s the music. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s both. Or maybe, maybe it’s the fact that you do have this stupid effect on me, and no matter how much I try to ignore it, it builds up, clogging me and drowning me and choking me until all I can do is flail in the mess that’s surrounding me, captured in this never-ending, always-rising wave of emotions that won’t ebb or transpire, simply transfer themselves from one person to another. But in the end, they always come back to you. They always come back to the fact that you’re here, and you’re now, even though you’re not actually here, and that I love everything about you, from the sound of your voice, to the way you look, to the way talking to you makes me feel safe. And I know, I just know, that if I woke up in the morning with your arms around me, I’d be more content that I’ve ever been before, and that I’d be able to sleep without a worry, feeling more safe than ever before, because you’re there, and you’d protect me.
But that only comes about through love, and I know that you don’t feel that for me, and I know that you can’t make yourself feel that sort of thing, and I know that it’ll never happen, and that I should just move on and settle for what I’ve got, and that there is no use pining like the stupid little girl that I am, because that won’t make anything better, it won’t make anything better at all, and then things just get worse, and I alienate myself from everyone that loves me, and everyone that would take care of me, because they’re simply not you.
I want the things that I can have, and the things I can’t, and the things that I can’t I get over, but for some reason this just won’t leave me alone, and it hurts and I hate you for it, but I love you and this is all wrong and I can’t stop it and I can’t control it, and I hate myself for it, but yet it still won’t go away, this persistent nag nag nag that won’t stop in my mind, telling me that it’s you you you and no-one else, no-one else.
When did it start being about you, and stop being about me, and it became the incessant music that never stops, no matter what I listen to? When did it become the sleepless nights because I haven’t spoken to you?
That's even better than the other piece. It's brilliant, but sad.
I second that notion... :mellow: