Scraps (Scomiche)

Journal ( no scomiche )

Sorry guys, no Scomiche - no Scott or Mitch or Alex or anyone else. I just needed to let things out, and I didn't know where to put these words. So I'm putting them here, hoping that it will help.

Read if you want a glimpse of my journal, although you'll find nothing happy or with a meaning. If you don't, feel free to skip. There should be an update of something more good for you, tomorrow hopefully.

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I used to dream that you'd be back.

I used to dream that you'd realize everything you have done wrong, everything you put me through. I dreamed that you would beg for my forgiveness, that you would fight to regain my trust.

And in my dreams, my heart wasn't still breaking over you. In my dreams I was happy, satisfied with the life I was living, ready to show it off in front of you, welcoming the proud feeling that would come when I'd see disappointment all over your face.

I wish someone had told me that getting your revenge doesn't feel good - no, it just makes you feel sad, even when you thought you were finally happy.

I wish someone had told me that, even if you stop being in love with someone, you still care. Even if you don't want to, even if it's not fair. Even if deep inside the only thing you really want is to hate them, deeply and forever, to let them see suffer the way they made you suffer.

I used to dream to hear you saying the words. I want you back, I made a mistake, was everything I was waiting to hear. The script would play in the back of my mind at every waking hour, keeping me up all night, the daydream way better than the nightmares happening when I closed my eyes and I managed to fall asleep.

Your memory haunted me for so long that when it finally disappeared, I felt alone. I was used to be surrounded by the ghost of your presence, remnants of your voice still lingering in my mind, like a soundtrack to my thoughts. Your shadow would walk with me, glued to my soul, my heart breaking and fixing itself over and over in the hoping to shaking you off. But still you were there.

I thought that loving you was hard and tiring, but the truth is that being able to stop being in love you was even worse. It was worse to think back to those six years of my life and not feel a single thing, than to think about it and wanting it back like I've done for so long.

Even if you didn't care anymore, I could pretend that those years held some weight when I still did. I could still pretend that they had mattered somehow, at least to me. That they had not been completely wasted, that even if they had been a lie to you, they were real to me.

Are they still real if I don't even know if I care about them? What does it say about them if I think about it, and nothing matters?

You should never wish something, if you're not ready to face the consequences. I thought that having you back, begging for me, would be everything to feel back in track, finally at peace with the universe. I thought that it was just right, you know? After all the tears that I shed, after all the screams that I let out, after all the stress and the sleepless night and the comfort from friends that didn't know how to hug me anymore to make my heart stop bleeding...

I thought that your suffering would bring me what I needed. That your pain would be enough to fix the holes that you left in my heart. I thought that seeing you broken would make me feel complete again. The truth is, it doesn't. Nothing is filling up the wounds in my being, if not more sadness.

Why would I feel bad about it? You never did. You didn't feel bad when you took my heart and threw it on the floor. You didn't feel bad when you carelessly ruined my life. You didn't feel bad when you lied, when you laughed at my tears, when you left.

Did you? Did you ever feel bad? Did you ever think that maybe you were doing a mistake? That maybe there was something worthy tangled with all the falsity you had filled our relationship with? Did you ever want to go back, before it was too late?

Your apologise doesn't matter anymore. Your words of kindness have no more truth inside of them. Your eyes looking at me fondly are no more worthy of my trust. You act broken now, wishing to be fixed, almost like I'm the only one who could break a spell casted over you. You casted that spell. You cursed both of us a long time ago.

I don't want to feel sad over you anymore. I don't deserve it. I'm over us, I know that I am. I don't love you anymore, I don't want you anymore. But I still care. I still feel that overbearing need of protecting you, of wanting you safe from everything and everyone - myself included. Why did I even feel the need of protecting you from me, if I never hurt you in the first place? If there ever was someone who hurt the other person, it was you.

You hurt me. You hurt me so much that I felt the pain even when you were no longer near me. The wounds that you inflicted in my soul are still healing. I'm forever changed.

I wanted to hurt you back as much, and now that I finally have the chance of doing it, something is holding me back. Somewhere inside of me, I still don't want to do something that would make you suffer. Somewhere inside of me, I still care. Even if you don't deserve it. Even if the only fair thing would be to stab you with a knife made of harsh words and hard lies. Even if what you are feeling now could never compare with the pain I endured because of you. Even if you disrespected me in so many ways, even if you didn't show me love when I thought you were.

I tell myself  that things are different now.

I tell myself that I'm better than you. I tell myself that the difference between us is that I have a heart, and you don't, and that's why I'm refraining for making anything that would make you feel even the smallest amount of what I felt. I tell myself that I will be right so you can still be wrong. I tell myself that I respect what I am too much for reaching the low point you did.

I should tell myself the truth.

That I still care about you more than you care about me, so nothing has really changed.