My Own Little Hell

I think I need to distance myself from you.
I thought that I could continue being your friend.
I thought I could do this.

I cry every time you leave.
I can’t understand why you do and say the things you do, but you claim to not have feelings for me.
I don’t think I can handle being your friend, especially being just your friend.

What happens when you meet someone?
What happens when you move on from me?
What happens when I’m no longer needed?

I love being here for you, especially because I feel that you met me for a reason.
I’m in your life for a reason.
I just hope that whatever that reason is, that it is fulfilled soon.
Because I can’t keep pretending.

I can’t keep pretending that I’m the “cool girl” who can just turn her feelings off.
Or ignore them.
Or tell them to go away.

I can’t keep pretending that I’m not wanting every single piece of you every single minute we’re together. And not together.

I’m trying so hard to keep it together. I’m trying so hard to be a good friend. I respect that you don’t feel the same way towards me, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy.

It’s not easy joking around with you.
It’s not easy having your arms around me.
It’s not easy looking over at you and catching you staring at me.
None of this is easy at all.
I’m constantly walking on eggshells so I don’t say something stupid or so I don’t freak you out and at the same time I’m trying to maintain how I’ve always acted around you.

I wish I never told you how I felt. Because at least then I could keep pretending that you wanted this too.

And you don’t.
And so I’m stuck.
I’m stuck between wanting you and wanting to be over you.

I wish I knew the right thing to do.


Untitled Because Fuck It.

I don’t think there’s anything worse than the way you feel when you love someone with your entire being and they only see you as a really great friend.

Literally nothing.
I think I’d rather have a rabid raccoon gouge my eyes out.

You asked me to write you a love letter. I’m not going to give this to you.

You asked me to write you a love letter. You never said I had to actually give it to you. Or even confirm that I wrote one. You just asked me to do it.

Having you in my life has been wild. I have so much fun with you. You always keep me smiling and laughing. We have the best conversations. And even though your ideas are crazy, irresponsible, dangerous and usually borderline impossible, I love them. Because they come from you.

I could listen to you talk all day. I would never get tired of it. You could sit there for three hours and just say the word ‘lamp’ every thirty seconds, and I wouldn’t be bored.

I wish you realized how I look at you.

I love that you always smell good. And it’s not just because you have different kinds of expensive cologne. There’s an actual science to natural pheromones and the way our bodies mix with our artificial smells. You’re intoxicating.

You’re a drug addict. And you think that deems you unworthy, but I’m so proud of you. I admire you for being strong and kicking the drugs. I admire you for your struggle and for trying so hard to turn your life around. I think so highly of the fact that you wake up every day and choose not to take them. And even if you did, I would still be here. Still rooting for you. Still by your side no matter what.

I love your music. You’re talented and wonderful and if you ever wanted to do something more with it, I support the shit out of you. I’ll be your biggest fan. I can tell you love it. You’re so passionate.

I love how nice you are to my animals. Even though you don’t even like cats. I also love how much they both love you too.

I just want you to be happy. No matter what you’re doing or where you are or who you’re with. I just want you to be so incredibly happy. I despise the idea of you sad or upset or hurt.

I love the way you play the guitar.
I love the face you make when you’re thinking about something.
I love the way you smoke your cigarettes.
I love the way you sing, even though you’re not very good at it.
I love the way you laugh, especially when it’s because of something I said.
I love the way your eyes light up when you’re talking about something you love or something you find funny.
I love the way you braid my hair.
I love how attentive you are when someone is telling you something.
I love the way you look at me.

Even if you’re not looking at me how I look at you.

I love your smile. I’m convinced it could cure cancer.

There’s so much more to you that I don’t know yet, but I want to. I want to know every single thing about you. I want to know what makes you tick. I want to know your opinion on everything. I want to know what makes you happy and what pulls on your heart strings.

When I’m with you, I have no worries. I’m usually stressing about everything, but not when I’m next to you. I don’t worry about bills or money or the future. I’m just with you. In the moment. And I feel like I’m on fire.

I don’t know what’s going to happen between us. I don’t know how you feel or what you’re thinking.

But none of that even matters. I’m lucky enough to even know you, let alone have the honor of being able to spend time with you.

Because you feel like home.