You wait for someone to come into your life and tell you you’re perfect. Tell you they can’t live without you; you’re always on their mind. But when those feelings are foreign and you hear them with a meaningless ring, you panic.
You can’t believe someone’s pushing your hair back to better look into your eyes. You can’t believe they’re holding your hand, despite your nail biting habit and horribly dry skin. You can’t believe they sacrificed their Saturday night to find the shiny pieces of your shattered self. You can’t believe it, so you don’t. You run from the possibility that this time could be different.
I wish I could blame you for the mess I’ve become. I would blame you for the times I laid on my cold, wooden floors. Curled in a ball with crippling thoughts. I would blame you for the nine a.m’s you made me miss, the days in bed you made me have. For the hours spent wishing I was someone else.
I would blame you for the times I believed your lies. The times you pulled me close and kissed my forehead, promising a future in us. For showing me a sadness I didn’t know possible. A sadness I didn’t know how to survive.
I would blame you because I could forgive you before I ever forgave myself.
Sometimes I like that I believed your lies because it meant I thought the best of you. Sometimes I like how hard I tried to make things work, because it meant I was open to the idea of you. Sometimes I like the times things went wrong, because it meant I was willing to fight for you.
It’s bittersweet getting through something with the very person who put you though it, but I’m so glad I did because it meant life hasn’t yet, made me cold to the idea of love. And that’s because of you.
I wasn’t ready to love you when I met you. There wasn’t anything you could’ve said, or anything you could’ve done. You gave me time to decide, time to open my arms but I didn’t, because I couldn’t. Our love was lost, our chance was missed. If timing is everything, then time worked against us, and too often I look at the door and hope you’ll walk in, so we can meet again.
He bought me fries and beer; you bought me a three-course dinner.
He showed me his parents’ basement; you showed me the city skyline.
He told me about his night with the bros; you asked me about my day at work.
He made me walk home, alone at 4 am; you walked me to my door.
And when you took me home, released my hand and said goodnight, I couldn’t keep a smile off my face. And wearing the same grin you gave me, and reliving the night we had, I picked up my phone, and told him I missed him.
It’ll be amazing. You’ll talk about the past. The love lost, the love found. You’ll laugh about the times you stayed out past curfew and the times you outran the cops. You’ll recognize the words that made you weak and the smile that was instant comfort. The doodles left in your yearbook and the pictures you couldn’t delete. You’ll remember the first date, first kiss, first fight.
You’ll remember the last date, last kiss, last fight. The fight you couldn’t overcome. The words you just couldn’t forgive. The happily ever after, you couldn’t wait to escape. You’ll remember why it didn’t work and with that you’ll understand why it never will. You’ll convince yourself you can love them again and again, but one day you’ll learn; love is never the same love, the second time around.
Sometimes it’s easier to miss someone then to love them. To close the door instead of let them in. The idea of how things could be substitutes the effort of actually making it happen. In the end, some people cross paths to teach lessons, to change one another, to simply show a different path.
If we refuse to give our time to someone so willing to accept it, they have taught us all we need and we have to be fair in releasing their hand, and watching them go; for we should know better than to mess with heartache. There’s convenience to limbo, to the back burner, to I might miss you if you leave. But, there’s no reason to accept love, with no intention to love back.
Maybe one day you’ll meet someone with the same broken pieces. A glimpse of terror in their eye will catch yours. You’ll have an awkward first, second, third date. Tempting each other to open up. One day you will and your problems won’t feel like problems. Together you can replace what you’ve lost along the way. You can sigh in relief knowing you’re understood. You’re loved for who you are. And maybe that won’t be so hard; because maybe a lot more people have terror in their eyes then we let ourselves believe.
It’s the kind of pain we didn’t know love had to offer. The kind of love we hate to admit, for the times we saw the destruction and the pain wasn’t worth the reward, we didn’t put the fire out. Instead, we watched it burn to ashes in a regretful fall out.
When the fall out happened and bitter resentment was strong, your jokes were at me, not to me. You didn’t pick up when I called. You brushed off my problems, my pleas, my maybe I was wrong. I live to wonder if you were worth settling for, but without you I’ll never know. Without you I can’t help but wonder if the burn from the flame was better then the ashes of us.
I’m sorry you got caught in the wrath of a troubled, self-destructive girl. I’m sorry you were the one to grab my hand, just as I was falling off the edge. You marked my insecurities and took advantage of my unhealthy habits. You knew the way I cringed at the whisper of a compliment. I lost comfort when your hands reached for mine and I surrendered my ability to defend myself, time after time.
You used my moments of weakness against me. Insisting I was the reason we would never work. It’s a relief you’re behind me for, I know I didn’t lose my prince charming. In our fairytale, you were the Jester and I was simply the joke.