the problem with adoring someone two years older than you when you're only 16 is the undeniable selfishness of an 18 year old boy's desire for soft skin and hips. but it always could just be me and my naivety, thinking he could see deeper than my bones and adore my thoughts rather than my body. but there are rare moments of clarity where i could swear he was honest, and i curled right into the palm of his hand without questioning where we'd stand in a few months, and it seemed inconceivable he'd love another girl when he promised me a future. but old bones grow tiresome and i was spitting words into a paper cup swallowed by your beating heart and they were never once read or heard, but i spoke ceaselessly thinking i could worm my way into your ribs. i've found myself slipped into a parallel where i'll never understand the selfishness of allowing someone to shatter windows and wreck walls for you, while you stand idly by pretending i was not a vulnerable 16 year old girl. and you've yet to acknowledge me and i've never felt more 16 than when you walk past me without even seeing me. while i've spent days picturing you, you see right through me and leave with somebody else. in terms of an entire life span two years mean nothing, in terms of you and i - it was everything.
i think i might hate this piece but i honestly bitch about everything i write???????/ - sydney
