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That Was Then and This is Now.

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The moment I fell in love with you I cant exactly remember. But I do remember always having this overwhelming feeling to be near you. To have you touch me, hold me, look at me in that special way you do. I wish I could remember what it was like when you loved me. A part of me still believes you do. The other part, the sane part, knows you have moved on. Maybe you never even loved me. Maybe it was always her. And the other girl. And the other. It was always someone else, never me. Why did you stay? If you never loved me, why did you stay for so long? Was it my eyes? The way I looked when I smiled? How I gave you the world and more? I gave you my entire world until I had nothing left to give. I gave you myself. My entire self. So when you left there was nothing. There is nothing. Did I leave you with nothing too? I remember sitting on your sofa, your arm around mine, just staring, staring at your Christmas tree. You never told me why you had a fake one. You just said “that’s the way its always been” and that was all. But it was beautiful lit up in that dark, silent room. It was like my heart with you in it. Its corny, but that’s what I thought right at that moment. Then we made love on the living room floor. It was beautiful, you and I. And near the end I cried out, but it made no sound, just fingernail marks on the back of your neck. Sometimes we made love and sometimes it wasn’t love at all. Sometimes it was long and hard, a hot mess to fill the empty spaces in our lives. Like a puzzle with forgotten pieces under the bed. You were forgotten and I was forgotten but we both found each other. And I keep replaying the time I was home by myself and your mother brought me ice cream because she knew I was lonely. Did you know I was lonely? And even though it was practically melted, I invited her in and we ate right out of the container and talked about love and books and you. My favourite subject. And before she left I hugged her for the first time ever and felt a love so pure and whole between us I didn’t have to ask like I did with most people. My own mother doesn’t love me. But she does. I find it unfair that you get a mother and a father and a sister and a brother while I get a half father and three quarters of a mother and a dead brother. But it was nice of you to share for awhile. To let me be part of your family since I didn’t have my own. Who knew your brothers laugh and sisters smile could fill the empty holes? An afternoon swimming underneath the August sky, a driveway filled with chalk, skinned elbows and rollerblades, I knew. Anything was possible with your sister. Anything was possible with your brother. Anything was possible with you. A broken heart included. But I ignored it. Oh why did I ignore it? My daddy told me not to give my heart to you. “Hearts are not for sharing” he always said. But my daddy had given his heart so many times that there was nothing left to share. Nothing left for me. So I took from you. I took and you took and you gave and I gave, and we continued on in this endless dance of taking and giving. But it had an end, it did. When did you stop caring? Did you think I was tired? Did you think I was bored? The truth is I was both. But I couldn’t stop loving you. I can’t stop loving you. It was always you. There was a week when it wasn’t you. It was him. He was so beautiful to me. Piercing green eyes and knowledge so deep it was like reading a thousand books. And you know how I love to read. I had read you so many times that I could recite you backwards, speak you in French, je t’aime, ma vie, m’espoir, mon amie. You promised to take me to Paris, to Greece, to Rome. You promised me a fancy wedding and a white picket fence around our home. You promised me two kids, one dog, and you, forever. But if there is one thing I’ve learned its that promises are only words unless they are fulfilled. And you fulfilled nata, zilch, zero. But somehow I love you still. And even though we cross paths everyday without a word, without a glance. Me chewing on my lip, you with your hands in your pockets. Passing by like strangers. But we are not.



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screwedagain said...
Jun. 12, 2011 at 12:10 pm
The description in your articles, your use of words, it give a great mental picture, very good writing.  I find myself feeling sorry for you/ your sense of loss in a few of them. 
 
ChanelLover said...
Apr. 3, 2011 at 7:42 pm
Your writing is some of the most special I've ever read. I wonder what gives you the inspiration for your work? Are these based off of true stories? 
 
Taylor H. replied...
May 12, 2011 at 6:51 pm
thank you ! and yes, many of my pieces begin with a tiny bit of truth, and then I make things up as I go along
 
Truely said...
Feb. 23, 2011 at 5:13 pm
Im sorry about your brother! I'm sorry for everything.
 
invisible said...
Feb. 16, 2011 at 4:38 pm
Wow Talya, keep up the great work!  But I do have to agree with choked up you do have a brother that I'm sure misses you very much...
 
cass said...
Feb. 5, 2011 at 7:37 pm
Wow Takya, this was absolutely beautiful hun. So much emotion, it was mindblowing. Never stop writing, it is one of the best things that makes you, you. <3 love u gurl
 
CameandgonesmartyThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Nov. 1, 2010 at 8:52 pm

I LOVED IT  

THE ONLY THING I SUGGEST IS A CHEESOER ENDING LIKE :

BUT WE R NOT STRANGERS  NO MtTER WHERE WE R U WILL ALWAYS STAY IN MY HEART... ALWAYS  

 
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