Never chase anyone. A person who appreciates you will always walk with you.
How do I just try to be okay after everything I’ve done to damage the one thing I really had faith in. I lied to him so many times that it literally ruined everything. And Christmas is the worst time ever to go through a breakup and its really hard not sitting up at night and crying.
I am not okay. And I want to numb my pain. I cant stand this.
My anger is in-control of my mouth. When the heat in my body starts to rise, so does the backlash of my words. I don’t mean to be so mad so much. This is something I have to work on, and I wish you would assist me in this process.
I tend to embellish the truth. When you tell me that you love me and I ask you to compare it to something that you feel just the same for, you tell me that it’s impossible, because you’ve never felt this way about anything before. When I tell you that I love you, you ask me to compare it to something that I love just as much, and I tell you that with the love that I have for you, I could travel across the country on foot, without breaking a sweat. You laugh at me, and you tell me that’s impossible. I laugh back and tell you that the only thing that is impossible is trying to get you to believe that my love for you has enough strength to carry the entire weight of the world.
I smoke cigarettes so much that you would think that it was something a doctor prescribed to me. But no doctor did, and this is a small way on how I cope with things. So when I come home at 2 a.m. and my fingers smell as if they made their way across another man’s skin, it’s just the smell of burning desires, and not raw flesh. I light a stick of menthol-flavored tobacco whenever I feel as though you’ve had enough of me. I don’t look at you in your eyes when you are begging me to tell you what it is that you’ve done wrong, and what you could do to make it right. If I look at you in your eyes, you’ll know that I am lying when I tell you that everything is fine. So I stare at my feet, and hope with everything inside of me that you will mistake my melancholy tone for security.
When you leave, I don’t know what to do with myself. For years, I’ve been so used to my body being wrapped around yours, and the only way that I will ever be able to feel safe again is if you stitch your body into mine. But we are too fragile to undergo something so permanent, and as long as you keep coming back home at the end of the day, I think I could be okay with you removing yourself from my grip.