Peace has been restored.


Last night I sat across from you for the last time. I finally expressed myself without fear. My voice did not break, it did not quiver. Your tears of remorse and your desperate pleas did not break me. The pain you caused me deflected any sympathy I could feel for you. I am done hating you, I no longer need revenge. The pain has been numbed and the anger has subsided. I thank you for telling me why you did me wrong, but I no longer want you. Its time for me to move on.

Don’t kiss me during the fireworks. Kiss me after and give everyone else something to look at once chaos has passed. Don’t kiss me when you don’t know what else to say, kiss me when that’s all that needs to be said. Don’t kiss me at all the right times, kiss me mid sentence because my lips were moving, and you were jealous of the air because they weren’t moving on yours. Don’t read up on old fairy tales I don’t want a fairy tale. I want real and in the moment. So kiss me when you’re up in flames and about to burst. Kiss me when the tears are doing all the work. Kiss me hard and kiss me good.
(via jamstains)
There are days I miss you, even when you’re right beside me. So much has changed and things are so different. I wonder if we’ll really make this work or just die miserable, trying in futility. I wonder if the baggage is too much and the weight will crush us, crush me. I don’t know if I can count on you or ever learn to let myself expect things from you. I don’t know how to be in a relationship with you without all this shit hanging over our heads. You say we’ll work because we’ve worked before. We were children. We are grown now and we do not possess the ability to ignore childish mistakes and incongruities as we did then. Now, we must be accountable for our actions. And so far, none of our actions have been good, not for us, not for the world, not for you, and definitely not for me. But I don’t have the strength to really let you go, move on, live my life without you. No. I need you to be the one to break it off. I need you to be the one to set fire to twelve years of comfort. I need to stand there and watch it all burn down. I need to know that nothing will come rising out of the ashes. That’s my problem. And you know this: I know you know this. Because this is how you control me. This is how you reel me in every time I say ‘I’m done’. This is how you pull me back in and this is how you get me to ignore my gut and our lack of actual resolution. That’s the thing. We will talk and talk and talk and talk. We’ll talk for hours, days, months: and never resolve a damn thing because you’ll never change. Ultimately, I’m not worth changing for, I’m not worth fighting for. I’m not worth a damn thing, really. What will become of us? Tell me, what will become of us? When will I stop missing your lips on me and your head in my lap and your arms around me? When will I stop missing your voice and your face and your scent? When will I stop missing us, even though ‘us’ never really existed? When will you stop lying to me?
Me, about you.