06 декември, 2015

plane crash

I never learn, do I? I have this habit of falling for people who can't possibly fall back for me. That's exactly what makes them so compelling, I guess. I'm never the girl they fall in love with. I'm the girl they meet, screw around with for a while and then they go off into the sunset with a better version of me. One that is prettier and says all the right things instead of blurt out every stupid thing that comes to her mind. I'm ridiculous. I say too much or nothing at all. I look at you with hope. Not for us, but for myself. I didn't think it was possible to feel something other than fear at all. Now I do and I'm even more terrified. Because it will only take you a while to get bored with my insecurities and that will be it. Then I'll have to pick myself off the floor somehow yet again and pretend it didn't mean as much. It always does. The funny thing is eventually they all realize, after the better one hurts them, that I could have been their everything. But that doesn't really mean much. It won't fix me. It won't erase the walls that get higher every time someone leaves.
At this point I'm afraid to even let them. I bite my lip whenever I have something to share because I don't want to tell you things if you'll leave anyway. I don't want to allow myself to let you get too close. All that is my way of saying how scared I am. Yes, I play it cool. I turn it all into a joke and pretend it doesn't matter because I don't want it to matter. I do what you do and yet every time we talk or just lay next to each other I want to stop time and not move. I want to fill the silence with your words and at the same time I'm scared to start talking because I might say too much. So I am quiet, listening to your breathing, the way your heart beats. Every time you hold me a little but too tight and then you let me go, I feel like asking you to never let me go again. 
That's why I don't write. Well, I try not to. I really do. I really wish I didn't care as much in general. But I always do and you knew that. You're not helping me at all. And why should you? I think it would have been a lot easier without the whole talking thing. Because you tell me things and I feel special. I get to be where no one else is. And it's all a lie. You don't talk to me because it's me there. You talk just for the sake of doing so. It can be anyone else in my place and it won't change a thing. 
Then again, why should it be any different this time? I'm never the choice. I'm just there when no one else is. Because if it was between me and someone else, I'd never have a chance. 
What's weird is I didn't have to not do anything last night. I could have. But it's better with you. Everything is. Do I need to even keep writing? My idiotic smile says it all too well and it's only a matter of time before you get sick of it or I say something stupid. The saddest part is, it was never really much of anything to begin with. Well, that's the story of my life, so at least I'm used to it, you know. 

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