thisbloghousesmyfeelings

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

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Dear David,

I need to tell you a story, and I know that it’s not one that you want to hear. It’s a story about how I trusted too much and was disappointed, and it’s a cautionary tale to both you and myself as we spend this summer far apart from one another. Please read it; there will be parts that make you angry and parts that you won’t understand why I’d tell you them. But you need to understand how I feel, and why I feel the way that I do, because I love you more than anything in the world and losing you in these next couple months would break me.

Flashback: It’s the onset of summer 2017. Finals are approaching but I’m not studying, because I’m thinking about a boy, one with red hair and a contagious smile and a dumb laugh. I’m sitting on my dorm room bed and I look up at Julia and I ask her, “Sooo, did you ever have feelings for Gibson?” She looks up from her laptop, confused. “Uhh...no, why? I just made out with him.” I smirk. “I was thinking about inviting him over the night of Relay.” Her brow furrows for a moment before she begins to cautiously grin. “Well, I’m not going to be here because I need 10 service hours by May 1st, so the room is all yours.”

With that, the adventure begins. I have no intention of doing anything with Gibson except the physical; we’re going to be leaving for break soon anyway, so it would be stupid to get involved in something more serious. With a deep breath and all my inhibitions tossed into the wind, I send the text.

For the next few weeks, we’re inseparable. Julia starts to get annoyed with how much time he spends in our room. Every time he leaves, I thank her profusely for being understanding. “I really feel something for him, Jules...and I know it’s the stupidest possible thing to do but I think we’re gonna go for it.”

And go for it we do. We say “I love you” before we leave for opposite sides of the state. But I only make it a week before I decide that I want to go and see him. He’s excited. I take a 10 hour bus ride and when I finally step off, he’s there to receive me. The hug that I get at the Fort Walton Beach Greyhound station is one that I’ll remember, good or bad, for the rest of my life.

We spend a blissful 8 days together. There are red flags, of course, but I ignore them, because we’re in love and we’re going to make it through the summer and I’m going to be his date to all his frat functions, blah blah blah. I cry on the bus ride home.

And then, after a month apart, he stops texting me back. The phone calls I once enjoyed, late at night on my bathroom floor so as not to wake my family up, have vanished. He’s disappearing from view faster than I can breathe. And then one day, all communication stops. Not knowing what to do, I text his mom; she’s appalled at his behavior, and marches up to his room to make him call me. He does, but he’s angry. I tell him I was worried about him because I hadn’t heard anything in a week. He says that everything is fine, don’t contact his mom again, he’ll do better. But I know he won’t. That’s the last contact we ever have. And right then, in early July, he’s gone.

Present: So now, it’s summer 2018. It’s almost exactly a year later. And you’re home, and I’m here. We’re far, far apart. You text me almost every morning, but those messages, and all your replies, are spotty. And so I feel the doubt and the anxiety creeping up on me. Will you disappear? Will you realize that you’re happier without me? Will you fade into nothingness and leave me to pick up the pieces alone?

It’s not that I don’t trust you, because I do. Perhaps more than I should. Perhaps more than I ever expected to. I trust you with my life, and now that I’ve given so much of myself to you, I realize that there’s a possibility I might not get it back. It’s a slim chance, and I know that. I’m not expecting you to hurt me. But the fear is there and I can’t push it away no matter how hard I try.

Because the fact of the matter is that it’s hard to feel like you’re enough when past experiences suggest that you aren’t. It’s hard to trust someone when you’re not right there with them because past experiences suggest that time apart means a decision to leave. It’s hard to have faith when past experiences broke it.

What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want that for me, and I don’t want that for us. I can’t force you to call me every day, nor do I expect that—what I do hope for, however, is a sign that you love me even when I’m not with you. I need reassurance that just because we’re apart does not mean that we’re doomed. I need to know that you didn’t go home for the summer with the intention of fading away from me.

Most of all, I need you to understand that my past experiences exist and I cannot change them. My fears about the future stem from very real disappointments, and although I’ve grown to love and trust you much more deeply than I ever have anyone else, I cannot push those dark memories away. I don’t need you to be my savior from them, but I do need you to acknowledge that this is hard for me, because you leaving feels like a goodbye.

I love you, David, and even though it seems stupid and dramatic and irrational, I feel like I’m losing you. I don’t know when I’ll see you again, and every time I talk about you visiting or you helping me move in or just things I want to do with you in the future, I’m looking for validation. I’m looking for you to assure me that I’m not the only person in this relationship who wants those things.

Communication is hard, but it’s all we have. I can’t be an afterthought now that I know what it’s like to be a centerpiece. You showed me what it’s like to come first. So now you have to show me that I still exist in your mind, and that I’m not sitting here alone, waiting for a text back, for no reason at all.

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

I could write about you, but you don’t deserve to live forever.

just like i don’t deserve you (via letters-from-alex)

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

Once I stop caring you’re not getting it back. I’ll be cold as ice, I promise.

You get what you deserve Apr 3, 2015 (via iwrite-myheart)

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

how do i become easier to love

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

You deserve something you don’t have to question. You deserve someone who is sure of you.

r.h. Sin (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

It takes a lot to start over again … But you owe it to yourself.

(via psych2go)

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

A Letter to My Love's Silent Demise

I remember when you made my eyes tear up because you wouldn’t tell me the truth.

My eyes teared up and yours did too because making me cry caused you pain. But I don’t know if even that was genuine.

I don’t know if you ever meant that you loved me when you said it. To be really honest, I don’t care if you meant it; I wasn’t looking for true love. I was looking for a realness that I hadn’t seen in a while.

I thought I saw that realness in you. But you were faker than even I could have predicted, and I assume the worst in everyone. You should’ve told me that you didn’t want anything. You should’ve told me you were only in it for the sex. I would’ve been okay with that, just like I have always been in the past.

But honestly, Gibson? You should’ve told me…anything. You should’ve used your words, or even just texted, that you didn’t want anything more from me. You should’ve given me the respect of closure that every person deserves.

But you didn’t, and that was my greatest disappointment. You told me once that you hate making people upset, that disappointing them is painful for you. So you should know that not only have you made me cry, but you’ve also damaged me more than I think you understand. And I don’t think you care, nor do I think you’ll reply to this message since you haven’t replied to any of the others.

I don’t want an apology or closure anymore because I’ve found it on my own, despite all the times I mentally tried to defend you. I know now that you did this on purpose and remorse isn’t something you feel.

But I feel sorry for you because I really did love you and you treated me like I was nothing, like I was a voice inside your head that you could ignore and it might go away. But I’m a person, Gibby. I’m not just someone you hooked up with. I met your family and I stayed in your house and I really, really had true feelings for you.

So consider this my goodbye, not that it even makes a difference to you. I know you don’t care. But let me pretend that you might feel even a little bit guilty that you dropped me so easily.

One day I’ll find someone who loves me with an intensity matching my own, who doesn’t care that I’m not a sorority girl, and who would never hurt me the way you did. Or even if they do, they’ll have the decency to be honest about it. They’ll tell it to my face and own up to it.

And you’ll find someone far more beautiful than me, blonde and statuesque, who will love you with all her heart. Maybe with her you’ll be able to truly return it. Or maybe you’ll do this same thing, pretend she never mattered and let her fade into silence.

I think you’re broken. I couldn’t be the one to fix you, because you don’t want to be fixed. You made a mistake. But like any great tragedy, it’ll go unpunished, leaving one side far more damaged than the other.

#mine #sad love

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

Feelings change - memories don’t.

Joel Alexander (via naturaekos)

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

She sat at a table, surrounded by her best friends. Her favorite dessert, on a plate in front of her, sat untouched. The to-go box containing her uneaten meal rested to her left. She wondered when she would stop feeling like this; she hoped that the anxiety wouldn't be a permanent visitor. But for now, as memories of him flooded her psyche, she couldn't imagine that the torture would ever subside.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write

#mine #sad love

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

Each time it happened, she found herself shattered and shell-shocked, the safety net ripped harshly out from under her. Here she was again, in the middle of the night, alone save for the crickets chirping beneath her windowsill. Her heart was in pieces. Her stomach felt as though it had taken up a permanent residence beside her toes. He had left without so much as a goodbye, without even a whisper of his impending departure. He gave her nothing but complete and utter silence, still and frozen. She wasn’t worth the closure, she guessed. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. It was always the same—she would open herself up, give her soul to someone she truly believed would protect it. And in each instance, after what felt like no time at all, they would disappear quietly into the darkness, taking that fragile part of her with them. This was her legacy. This was her story, rewritten identically each time. She didn’t deserve goodbyes. She didn’t deserve much of anything. So maybe the world would be happy to see her go.

Excerpt from a book I’ll never write

#mine #sadness #broken love #ghosting

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

And now, as I reached up, closing my fingers over his, I was grateful more than ever for something, finally, to hold on to.

Sarah Dessen, Just Listen (via simply-quotes)

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

It’s easy to take off your clothes and have sex. People do it all the time. But opening up your soul to someone, letting them into your spirit, thoughts, fears, future, hopes, dreams… that is being naked.

Rob Bell (via perrfectly)

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

You are not in love.

You are not in love.

He smiles at you. He holds you after you fuck and he drives you home, but he never makes you leave his bed until you want to.

You are not in love.

You just met him. Your relationship is based on physicality. You pillow talk, sure, but it’s never about anything serious…but then, for a moment, it is.

You are not in love.

He tells you he grew up without a father. He tells you about how he bounced around from school to school, following an airborne baseball, until he landed here for good.

You are not in love.

But you like that he treats you right. You like that he turns your face towards him and kisses you, nuzzling into you a second later.

You are not in love.

You don’t have feelings for him, since you just met and all, but it’s nice. Nice to fuck someone who doesn’t fuck you over. Nice to talk to and lay close to someone whom you have no expectations for, and who doesn’t judge you, because you’re just there for physical companionship.

You are not in love. And god…it feels good to be free.

#mine

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

“Do you think he’ll ever come back?” She asked. I searched her face, finding hope behind her irises, uncertainty drawing her eyebrows together. I wanted to lie. I wanted to tell her he’d regret his mistake and fly home to her, gathering her into his arms and promising never to let go. But I couldn’t, because I’d been there, and because I knew how dangerous hope could be. “No,” I told her, turning away, “he’s gone.”

#mine

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

we often get so tied in these people who we believe are angels. we see them in such a light that we forget all the things that hurt us. we often forget that angels can be devils in disguise.

(via writingsfromaheart)

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]

i am afraid that if i open myself i will not stop pouring. (why do i fear becoming a river. what mountain gave me such shame.)

Jamie Oliveira, “Erosion” (via wordsnquotes)

[thisbloghousesmyfeelings]