sad isn't it

life taught me that being honest with your friends, your feelings, your surroundings,
is not gonna make people like you, and because of your damn character and flaws, people are gonna judge and pick on them, despite them being your closest, despite they should be the ones that are not gonna judge and just understand.

my intuition, and my analyzing skills on people, on things. I use them, a lot. but I tend to not use it on my own friends, cause it's tiring. it is really tiring if I can't even be myself with my own friends.

and the case here, is that a friend I know since high school, it feels like, she changed too much, into another person. I used to think that she has a really carefree, I-don't-care character. but it doesn't seems that way anymore. it's scarier when you know that she keep her silence because that's the smartest thing to do without being the bad person, but you will never know what she can say about a particular thing aftermath.

when you can't even be yourself with your own best friend
sad isn't it

Instant

“What is an "instant" death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.”

sometimes

Sometimes I wish for the littlest things
like, wanting to hear your voice again..
like, wanting to hear you say my name again.

and it's like
no.

I can’t love you

I can’t love you because I’m scared. Because I’ve been broken hearted and I know the pain of losing something I love all too well. I don’t have another heartbreak in me, and sometimes when I look at you I imagine myself as a younger girl and I know I would have ridden into the sunset with you, had you asked, even if you were entirely wrong for me. I can’t love you because I’m so tired of love; its commitments and risks. I can’t love you because I don’t know if you’re worth the commitment or the risk and I’m not willing to find out the hard way, although I sincerely hope that one day I will be. I can’t love you because I don’t want to, and sometimes I’m afraid that makes me a bad person.

my hair is getting long and i miss you. the absence of squeaky train cars rattle through the cracks in my bones and i miss you. my shoes are too small for me, they suffocate my feet but i wear them anyway, and i miss you. i kissed a boy and kissed another. i think you’d like them both, and i miss you. i cannot keep my room clean, can’t keep my headphones from tangling and my music from blasting and the pen from bleeding through the page, and the stairs from leading both up and down, and the river from the ocean and the sun from the sky, and i can’t help the fact that i stay up too late every night, and i miss you. i’m clutching the tail end of summer while beckoning the fall, god i thought i was ready to fall but now i know i’m not or i think i’m not, i’m walking around everywhere to avoid everyone and i just really miss you. i haven’t written anything in a long, long time and i miss you. i jumped off a cliff. it took me two whole seconds to fall and right before i hit the water, i missed you. i see so many faces that we would both adore, and every time i see a new one, i miss you. i don’t know what to do with all the new; if i should store it in the pockets of my summer shorts or sew it to the inside of my new october coat or keep it hidden in the lace of my new lingerie that maybe someone will be seeing sometime soon. maybe i’ll unfurl the old and curl up with it into my sheets, wrap myself up in hollow surrender, breathe it into my pillowcase and play it on my guitar strings because i miss you. your hair changed color and you finally smile with your teeth and now there are more people that will love every part of you, and while they do, just remember that i miss you.

what if

what if I told you,

that I miss you
that I miss talking to you every night
that I miss having someone like you
that I miss the fact that we share so much in common and you always understand me
that I miss you missing me
that I miss me knowing that you like me as much as I do
that I miss those cheesy talks and those goosebumps you give me
that I miss coming home early just to talk to you
that I miss giving up clubbing nights just to stay in for you
that I miss having screenshots of our conversation that makes me go aww
that I miss you
that I just fucking miss you, you have no fucking idea and fact that no matter how much I miss you or even the slightest bit of you missing me, you wouldn't let that happen, cause your fucked up logical character is not gonna let that happen

This is the part that I get pissed with myself for missing you
fuck.

Study me as much as you like, you will never know me, for I differ a hundred ways from what you see me to be. Put yourself behind my eyes, and see me as I see myself, for I have chosen to dwell in a place you cannot see.