Hi! I'm back. This chapter feels short, but I've felt as if the song itself is compressed into almost a ball of emotion so I wanted to pack it all in there. Enjoy!
Tw: bad relationship, talking behind back, swearing, isolation
I thought I couldn't love anymore.
Turns out I can't, not for the same reasons as before.
Scribbled out messily in my old high school diary, written in for the first time in two years. I know, pathetic right? A twenty year old adding on to a teenagers filthy, appalling diary.
Whispers from old friends drift throughout the pages, phrases that had hurt me, phrases that had lifted me up. Depending on the paragraph, it was either a prodigious feat of flying through life gracefully and happily, or a grisly and self deprecating thought that would leave me staring at the ceiling for hours, wanting to run away.
The last sentence written in this diary when I was in high school was of simple, joyous love. The type of love that would lift you up on high waves of excitement and discovery, and even when it lowers, would drown you in affection and care.
I clung on to that feeling for two years, nothing but infatuation for the person who could bring me such excitement.
And I don't know why I did it, but I started ignoring your calls and texts. Why would I try and hurt someone as perfect as you? I still don't have an answer for that.
Maybe my feelings faded, maybe I just lost motivation. After a few weeks you checked in on me.
*marked as read*
Then, you tried calling a day later.
*call failed*
And finally, you just drove over.
I made the fault of not checking who was at the door, and let you in. The rushes of loving you as you reached out your arms to me were only memories, only residing in the back of my mind.
And yet, I let you hug me, as I stood stiff. When I looked down at your pretty face, all I could see was flushed and tear stained cheeks.
I didn't see my lover. I saw my past.
I said I couldn't do this anymore, and your previously tear stained cheeks gained new moisture as more tears fell, making more pathways and stains down your face.
I felt nothing as I pushed you out my doorway, locking it behind you and closing all the curtains.
I felt like I didn't deserve you, because you deserve the world. And although it feels like we were made from the same dirt, you were made from warm, sunkissed dirt, dry and soft, not bothersome and nice. I am made from the dirt at the bottom of small hills, pooling and staining your every movement, annoying and shitty to say the least.
I enhance the foulness of human nature, just as you enhance the sweetness.
Oh, I almost forgot about your sister.
I remember coming out of your bathroom after having brushed my teeth to hear you and your older sister arguing.
She kept saying to you to not trust me, I had too much free time and was too much of a risk. After overhearing that I passed it off as protective and judgemental, so I turned the corner to reveal myself, acted like nothing had happened and took you out to supper at a nearby wetherspoons.
And I hate to say it, but your sister was right. You should've listened to her.
I know I sent you home to cry. Fuck, I would too if I were you. I used you and ostracized you for weeks on end.
You have full rights to be mad, to be sad, to want to throw me to the other side o the world to never return.
I don't blame you, I was simply a waste of time.
And that's how I ended up here. Eyeliner smudged around my eyes, my highschool journal reopened. My blankets surrounding me like a nest, soft moonlight streaming through my windows. The moonlight doesn't feel romantic, it feels mocking. My arms prickle with goosebumps even though it's summer. I know the only heat that could warm me up is you, but you deserve better.
I won't reach out, I won't call. I'll try not to remember you, I'll forget you. And so, I write my final sentence to my teenage, present and future self that will ever touch this journal.
Every time that I miss you
I feel the way you hurt
And I don't deserve you
You deserve the world
Though it feels like we were built
From the same dirt.
