this is so fucking true.
"You left me standing on the corner crying feeling like a fool for trying I don’t even remember why I’m wasting all these tears on you. I wish I could erase our memory cause you didn’t give a damn about me oh finally I’m through wasting all these tears on you"
I think is my new favourite song. Wasting all these tears be Cassadee Pope. So maybe the versus don’t really relate but the course sure as hell does. I know what you’d say if I told you that. That you really did care about me. Even when you ended us. But you didn’t. Because if you did you really would have tried. You wouldn’t have just given up with no warning and no real explanation. Like she says in the song you’re not worth another sleepless night. But at the same time I won’t forget. The thing is I’ve had worse things done to me. Or so other people would say. But I can still be friends with those people. Because they tried to talk to me after. Because even though they did terrible things they were still good people. I guess in a way you are the opposite of them. I guess you disappointed me, hurt me, the most because I expected more from you. Because I, for once, knocked down my walls. For you. And now I can’t do that for him. Because of you. Because as much as you and I would both like to pretend you did not give a damn about me. I was just something different. Something that interested you. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. So now even though I know I can be so so happy with him I can’t open up completely again. Not just because I am afraid that I will be hurt again. I doubt he would. But because I am afraid to hurt him the way you hurt me. Because I have somehow caught a piece of whatever damage afflicted you. And now I am afraid to commit fully. And that is going to hurt him. I am afraid that the damage you cause will make me leave him the way you left me. And that would make me no better than you. Really. So now my only choice is to stop thinking about you. Stop crying over you. Just try to erase you. So that he won’t have to try and erase me. So I can be rid of some of my insanity.
I’m so fucking sorry. You have no idea. I’m so sorry. Because you’re about to go through hell. For me. I’m sorry i can’t trust. I’m sorry I can’t commit. I’m sorry I over think everything. I’m sorry I’m so damaged. So beyond repair. So fucking beyond repair. I’ve been hurt so bad. I know you think you know what I’ve been through but you don’t. I know you think from the outside it doesn’t look so bad. But it was bad. All of it. Everything. Just because I forgave and I joke about it doesn’t mean I’m okay. I’m not okay. That’s why I’m so sorry for what I’m going to put you through. I don’t want to. But I want to try. I want to try this. I just know I can’t without hurting both of us. I can’t say the things you say or act like you do. I can’t because of the risk. Saying those things it means putting my real feelings out there. It means risking the pain again. Again. And I know you’re good. Everyone knows. And I know you won’t hurt me on purpose. But I can’t help but look to the past. When I thought the exact same things. When I had my heart ripped out. So you have to understand. You have to know how sorry I am. That I can’t be vulnerable. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I hope someday. I really do hope. But for now all I can say is I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
This is so true. I can’t believe I finally met these people. The ones who I can actually get along with. That actually understand. Don’t get me wrong I love my high school friends but we’re just not the same. My new friends we all have the same interests and likes and values and they’re just as crazy as me. They’re just as insane. I love it.
Why me? That’s my biggest question? Why me? Why in the world would you even think you want someone like me? No. Not someone like me, me. Why would you want me? I don’t get it. Listen before you say something like ‘you’re great’. That’s not a reason. And I’m not great. Why me? I’m crazy. I hold on to old fashioned family values. I still listen to what my parents tell me. I’d rather have super at my grandparents house than go to some party with all kinds of drunk people I don’t really know. And that’s not even the crazy part. I don’t like vacuuming because I think people could sneak up on me. I hear voices when my furnace come on. I have characters in my head. They have names and personalities and they go in all my stories. I act like they’re real people. I worry about what might happen to them. Even though I control their fake lives. And I have stories in my head. Even more than I have characters. So many stories that i cant decide what to write first. Sometimes I whisper to myself at night. I tell all the stories in my head to myself. And that’s not even the half of it. There’s so much more. So there you have it. There’s half my crazy. There’s everything I’m too afraid to tell you. Even though you know parts already. So ill ask the question again. Why me? What amongst all of this makes you still want me? Or do you anymore after hearing this? And do you want to hear the rest? I was bad. I was bad for a very long time and I’m still only just getting better. I hated myself. I hated my body. I hated my personality. I hated my feelings. So I did things. I tried not to eat so much. It was hard but I tried. I weighed less than I do now. I hurt myself. That’s the hardest thing to tell you. To tell anyone. Because I’m ashamed. I have scars but you’d never know I gave them to myself. They could be from anything. I feel like people wouldn’t understand. There’s nothing wrong with me life. I have it pretty easy. I can’t tell you why I did it. I still don’t know. I just was bad. I was in a bad place. Like I said before I hated myself. I felt unwanted and unloved. I was alone. Or at least I thought I was. I felt like it. But I’ll tell you now damn could I act. I had everyone fooled. I looked fine. I acted fine. I hid the scars. I hid the pain. And to this day I don’t know if anyone knows what really happened to me in that time. I guess now you do. So now I’m healing. All of the scars are just scars. There is nothing new or fresh anymore. I’m standing on my feet again. I’m healthy and I think I’m genuinely happy. I think. At least I know I’m close to being happy. I like who I am now. And I’m starting to like what I see in the mirror. Starting to. I still see hate in my eyes but it’s getting better. Now can you tell me why? Why me? I’m not complete. Not yet. So why?
I’m terrified I just fucked everything up. How long have I been waiting for something so perfect as that moment and I just shook my head. No that’s a lie I straight up said no. I said no. Who does that? I promise I regret it already. But I’m just so afraid. I’m not afraid of losing the friendship, not anymore. I’m afraid of being hurt again. I’m afraid of having to say goodbye again. I’m afraid of believing in someone who is just going to let me down. I know I can’t count on past experience to tell me what might happen but I still can’t help but look back. I’m no exactly the luckiest person you see. I don’t know. I call it luck but maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s me and all my insanity. Maybe other people aren’t luckier. Maybe they’re just more. More than I am. Better than I am. So you see how afraid I am? Everything I’ve ever had has ended before it ever began and I suppose that’s what I’ve come to expect. My hellos are attached to goodbyes. Closely attached. I’m afraid of doing the one little thing that’s going to mess it all up. Only problem is I don’t know what that one thing is. I have no idea where I go wrong every time. And it’s terrifying. So please be patient. Be forgiving. I don’t want to lose this too. I can’t. I can’t.
Hahahahaha I always wandered about this