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Resistance

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I’ve been ruined too many times. Many people have come in and out of my complex life. I admit, I don’t let them stay long enough to make a lasting impression. I’m too proud to care for people who may need it. I’ve been caught up in my own selfish behavior to realize, I am completely and utterly alone. Not alone in the sense of friendship or family. Alone like I can’t see myself giving in to the whole cliché idea of love. It never really bothered me until I fell out of love, scared to admit I’m too much to handle for any one person. I find my satisfaction in little moments that seem to fade. We all get lost in those little moments… In a sick way they define us. Define what we can handle in a relationship, what we want from it, what we take form it. No one expects to walk away from love with perfect moments and ravenous tales of enlightenment. I’ve seen my heart torn to pieces, smashed into mince meat, traded for better ones, and just simply denied. People ask me why I do the things I do, why I waste so much of my time caring for people who don‘t care for me in return. The truth is, I know I’m not meant for love, I’ve been proven unworthy for such responsibility. On my worst days I envy people who has have what I’ve always longed for, but on better days I admire such beauty two people can show each other. I’m tired of people always worrying about me, and explaining the path I have chosen for myself over and over. I’ve gone down this path many times before. Many have gotten lost and some have just completely stopped. They all wonder why I’m so tired of people budding in, the truth of the matter is, I’ve fallen out of love. But now, a year later I’ve fallen back into the vicious cycle. For once in my life, I’m completely scared of how my behavior will effect him. What’s even worse is, he’s the only one I would change for, he’s the only one I’m going to change for. This feeling, this anxiousness, this love frightens me. I suddenly became honest, became smarter, became beautiful. Him and I have that type of relationship where we don’t have to say “I love you” out loud, but we notice the words and meanings seeping out of our once swollen pours. I can feel his hands screaming for mine and our lips awaiting to be touched.

He is my only source of light, providing me with a glow down an uncertain path to my own self discovery. We have the ability to cram all the seasons in one day, the night ending in complete and utter desperation for each other. I’ve lived my whole life looking for someone as clumsy, as clueless, as naïve as me. Another day another selfless act to improve a life of another, he is the reason why so many people give themselves to others with no great expectation back. Our town craves for his energy, his voice reverberates beneath my feet, I am renewed when he smiles, taken down by his anger.

The last day we spent together, was just like every other day. A night full of awkward moments and intellectual conversations. His eyes have always been innocent to me, blinking every so often to restore your inner beauty. He was different from anyone I knew. We discussed politics and read divine books about the war. He listened to me ramble about school and what I liked to do, ears perked absorbing every word that flowed from my aging mouth. He always said I’ve lived a full life for just an eighteen year old girl, and I always told you I haven’t lived since I met you. He was lovely, every motion so soft and delicate, his words sugar coated in our own premature ignorance. He was Romeo and I was Juliet, only there was something jaded about the way I looked at you. He needed me and I wanted him. Things slowly became obsolete. I always thought there was something better. Now, two years later I still think about you every day, I still wait for your phone call, or your car to pass my house. I guess we both lost ourselves in temporary people and our youth. If there was something I could do to make you want me again I would. I would take back every terrible thing I said and every rough memory I carved in his skin. I saw him the other day, and he aged. He looked like the years we spent together caught up to him. Smoking his cigarette and drinking his drink, like he‘s always done this sort of things forever... Like he’s been alone forever… I didn’t wave or smile because my gut told me not to, maybe he’s going through some things and he felt like he needed to deal with things by yourself, all I know is that I could tell that those words I spewed on his face so long ago faded into the wrinkles forming on his now rough cheek. It was then that I realized that he didn’t need me anymore.

I am no saint, I have done things that in his eyes are worthless. But since I met him, I have all this love cramped in my little body ready to explode at any moment.

I want nothing to become of this, just what it always has been.





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