I was so in love with you.
It was freakin' crazy.
And then, you smashed my heart into little fucking pieces.
Little fucking pieces that were scattered everywhere and it took me at least probably three times longer that it should for the average person to glue back together their heart, simply because it had been broken so many times before.
And you knew that. But still, you went on, like a sledge hammer with a mind of its own.
I remember the good times. The mind doesn't remember the bad times, but my eyes do. They remember as they travel down my scarred arms, as they find matches on the counter, as they see your own eyes avoiding mine. They know.
They are the windows to the soul, after all.
I guess I'm just surprised that there's anything behind your eyes anyway. I would expect your irises to be clear, since, if you could just break someone's heart like that, I don't think you would even be capable of having a soul.
I guess I don't really understand where everything went wrong, and awry. Because I distinctly remember you saying that you love me. And I distinctly remember not knowing what love is, until I got this huge fucking wave of shock swell up my heart (which I thought was a heart attack but turned out not to be).
And I didn't know what it was until I missed you like crazy - even more than usual, actually - and just the thought of you was soothing and refreshing.
I thought about how much pain and despair it put me in to think about you being depressed or hurt. Because someone as exuberant and bright, and literally everything as you couldn't be "depressed". Couldn't be put down. Couldn't be sad.
Couldn't be as lost as I was.
And to think of that made me go insane. But when I finally thought about all these things (that seemed absolutely fucking crazy because I didn't even know someone as lost as me could find something as complicated as 'love'), I realized that I actually did love you.
Which was surprising in itself, almost as surprising when I finally told it to your face, all clumsy and awkward like an idiot.
And as simple as that, everything washed away. All the pain, the sadness, the depression, the explosive temper, the hate that had been buried inside of me for so long- it didn't matter anymore.
Only you did.
It perplexed me indubitably, to the max. I didn't understand. I couldn't even fucking grasp the idea of caring about someone so much, that to seem them so beside themselves that it made you in turn feel even worse.
But I should have known - I shouldn't have been fooled.
I shouldn't have jinxed myself. It seems as though karma has it out for me for since I was little and decided to burn ugly, innocent insects with a magnifying glass outside. That had to be the reason. Right? Because everything I'd done led me to you, and you were the best freaking thing that happened to me in a long while.
Then again, I guess I was just stupid. Naïve. Didn't realize that I was caught up in a fabricated façade.
Because one day, you just left. For no reason.
Oh! No wait, I'm wrong. Your reason was:
I was holding you back.
I was holding you back.
I mean, that's just fucking ironic. I mean, that just made me lose my shit. Because I was the one that had given up everything. I was the one who put all of myself in, for you. Everything I did. It was for you.
And you just went and fucked everything up.
Of course, I went into a frenzy. I went bat-shit crazy, was an emotional wreck, and basically bawled my eyes out for no apparent reason- since I don't cry. I hadn't cried in I'd say about three years. And then you came along.
But I guess now, I'm just numb over it now.
Not completely over it, but not completely hung up on it. I still think back to those times; those times when I didn't do anything in the world but loved the hell out of you. And I think you did, too. I just wish I knew the real reason why you left, to this very day.
Because I'm still broken. I'm still waiting for the fucking krazy glue that pieced my heart together to dry up just so I don't have to feel so…lost, anymore.
I guess it's just more important to me now, since I'm familiar with the sensation of love, and I feel myself falling into the whole 'love void' again.
And all I can think now is, "Well.
Shit. This fucking sucks."
Because how am I supposed to know that it isn't going to end disastrously once again? Because palm readers have read my palm, and supposedly I have a good luck line, but obviously, they were just blowing smoke up my ass.
I mean obviously, I don't think all guys (or girls) for the matter, are all the same. They're clearly not.
I just know that I pick up the damaged ones. The ones that I think that will understand me, but in the end, don't want to deal with my shit.
But maybe, just maybe, I'll be wrong and he'll be just what I need. You know, the kind of person that understands me and my weird humor. And my clumsiness. And my weird taste in music and guys. And my obsession with the color blue.
But probably not.
Either way, I'll just be sitting here; waiting.
Waiting for love to get it's shit together like the rest of us.