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The thing is, I don’t want to meet new people
I don’t want to see new people, I see new people every mind numbing day and it means nothing
The thing is I don’t want it mean something because its only when we do something about all of these countless people that it changes the game.
I’d rather be alone, because I feel like a child, I feel like there’s something, there always is, but I don’t want it without him.
I feel like I don’t want to let go, I’m taking you with me, how dare you think I’m so easy to let you leave, its like you want me to, what is that? Its been us, for years now.
I am child, a baby braving nothing at all, it seems so small and yet I’m losing air and the way you look at me is no way at all but it’s the way I look back and have grown so used to looking. What do you expect me to feel when you’ve ripped a bloody mess, oozing you from every vessel and vein.
Its like I suddenly remember every single thing, every minute and ounce of everything.
That one parent teacher conference where I said, hello, and you replied with a flippant nod and a sup, I was repulsed, what a girl. A girl repulsed by the quick, careless burial of chivalry.
The way you spoke a language only known in some books we’ve all either read or seen the movie of, and I, the fool I am, was repulsed.
The time you sent me a message, something about garlic bread and a book character and my “medications”
The times we spent, hours together talking of nothing after a while, ending up talking about anything
Kisses and pick up lines, pretend wars and actual ones
The smallest kind of all
And I remember, like only a girl, a foolish, repulsed girl could, that I fell so silently, like falling asleep while reading, completely unprecedented and yet inevitable in those late hours.
And I remember how I never noticed a thing, like only a girl in love could and how you made me laugh, sometimes you didn’t but it was just something in words themselves.
There was yelling at you, at the top of my screechy desperate lungs in a crowded hallway, your stupid, small friends laughing at me, as if I wasn’t being serious when I said, I didn’t need you, that I hated you, that you needed to leave me alone.
And I wasn’t.
It was a fleeting summer daze, and somehow, its fine, in other hows and whys and wheres, it’s a sick feeling
You are a symbol of my time here, the theme of the past 3 years, someone’s great- unrequited love and their many adventures.
Letting you go means leaving the times and diving into a chilled newness and it makes me sick, you have become a security blanket, at time I doubt that I even love you anymore, perhaps I did, or perhaps I couldn’t even describe the emotion in such a way because it was a tiny passion, swept away by time and summer ices, boys on the beach with flippy hair and the ones in bands.
Its not you that I don’t want to let go of
It’s the moment and the image their pixelated colors create when spun all at once.