“I got you my nig”
Me: I value stability. After everything we’ve been through, I worry because what I really want is stability. This is how I cope.
Darling sis: So our parents really messed us up, didn’t they?
Me: They just made mistakes, albeit really terrible ones. I just have to accept that.
Growing up isn’t a choice for me. I knew that when I graduated high school. This is a tough road but I’m a tough girl. I just need to realize and trust in the Lord.
Life is a battlefield. I say bring it on
I am (un)fair when it comes to love.
That night, I broke up with you. I called you.
you just simply answered. Childishly. Naively.
It was never fair to keep holding onto you.
But I liked you with a passion.
I laughed to the point I crinkled my nose, called you a jerk and you
just teased me.
You are everything I’m looking for.
You get me.
You kissed me sweetly, softly with deep respect.
I liked you for making me smile again,
but I could never love you.
If I settled for you, future resentment would only follow.
Your said you wanted to stay by my side while I figured things out.
But I just couldn’t do that to you.
Lead you on…
“you’re a hard girl to let go.”
I dropped to the floor a little, sad and angry at myself.
Why can’t i just be crazy about you?
You’re everything I was looking for.
But I knew someone else would be more difficult for you to let go.
She’s so beautiful when she sleeps, and yet your eyes keep betraying her with the shades of pink outside the window. Horrid dawn. Wretched time. Three hours is all you have, then you’ll have to say goodbye. Again. The sheets rustle, her eyelashes flutter. Suddenly something snaps free from the depth of your solar plexus and three heavy words hang precariously from the tip of your tongue. You’ve waited your whole damn life for the perfect moment to say them. Is this it?
Tell her. Tell her because you know there is more to this than the feeling of her skin on yours, more than the sweet taste of her tongue. She’s flooded you, infiltrated your every thought and every cell so that you’re not longer certain of where you end and she begins, and every moment you spend apart you feel the pain of your soul stretching in her direction, of your heart swelling with the compulsion to be reunited with that piece of you she so effortlessly claimed and now holds, unknowingly, in the delicate niche between her breasts.
Sitting silent at the table, she looks so small, almost child-like swaddled in her floppy knitted jumper. She looks up as you slide the breakfast you cooked in front of her, but only for a moment. She always goes quiet on the days you leave. She doesn’t mean to – look, she even attempts a grateful smile now – but this is not the girl that burst with light as she ran to you at the arrivals yesterday morning, the one who began to tear your clothes off before the front door was properly shut. She doesn’t blame you for the brevity of these stolen days, but she’s hurting, that much is clear. How long before her pain turns into bitterness, how long before she’s had enough of always coming second?
Tell her. Tell her because she longs to hear it, because she deserves it, because this is hard on her and she needs something to keep her warm through the nights she spends without you. Tell her, not to bind her but to free her, from the hateful doubts that slither malignant in the gaps between her thoughts of you, from the ghosts of distance and absence that creep out of every dark corner when you go away, the ones that tell her that she’s not good enough, not important enough, that one day soon you’ll leave and never come back.
You have been sitting across from each other for about fifteen minutes, divided by a small table, two Starbucks cups and a boarding pass that mocks your silence and your sullen faces. With every breath you ache to tell her that you’ll be back soon, that no alternate reality can keep you away from her arms, but the truth is you don’t have a date, and every sentence you rehearse in your mind sounds like a vague and empty promise, and you know she’s worth so much more than that. The voice that squawks out of the speaker is like a punch to the stomach, and now her lips press against yours, wet with tears, her face buried in your shoulder as she bids her wordless goodbye.
Tell her. Tell her because the plane could crash and you might never see her again. Tell her because you’ve been waiting to feel sure this is forever, but forever is only a moment, and that moment is right now, now that you’re holding back the tears and your heart is exploding in your chest. Tell her because it’s true.
“I love you.”
Izakaya-style japanese food! squid, gyoza, bacon-wrapped mochi and various grilled meats! End of the semester suite mate dinner! I wish you all a very Happy Christmas and a Bright New Years! I’m so glad to have you guys as my suitemates!!@radioactive_mango @caroych @alexisssk kim zhang, hannah graner!! (at Ippuku)