journalofasomething - Tumblr blog

[journalofasomething]

oh I wanna be loved, I wanna be held, I wanna be kissed.

I want to feel like I'm done waiting, I want to stop feeling like I'm waiting, I want to feel right. I know being with someone won't make me complete but I know without someone I'm not complete.

And I know I'm not supposed to say that. I'm supposed to be whole myself. I don't feel whole by myself. I want someone. I want you. I want the version of you I imagine. I want the version of you I feel like I've glimpsed. I just want someone but I don't want just anyone but I think I want you.

I don't fucking know.

[journalofasomething]

I don't want to love pointlessly. Won't you just love me?

Why won't you love me?

[journalofasomething]

hello again dear. hello again i love your smile i love your eyes on me i think i would die for your attention. hello again you make me laugh you make me thrill you make me watch you across the room and i slip and i fall and i pine for a thousand instants even though it's pointless. i touch your arm just for a second but it's already too long i'm already wrong you're already gone. hello again you are beautiful; hello again you are not mine. hello.

[journalofasomething]

Oh no. I'm falling in love.

[journalofasomething]

you wouldn't be right for me. i think. there is a field between us full of twigs and rocks and stumbling blocks. the breeze of your smile floats me over it. when you look me in the eye it feels like being loved. not because you love me; i know you don't love me. i am so thirsty for love i'll drink down basic human kindness as a balm for the burn.

the reasons are stark but i find them easy to ignore. i imagine years ignoring them. i imagine years where feelings i feel ebb and flow, and friendship blooms in the old earthquake cracks in the field. i don't know if we are friends. sometimes i think we are, but i don't think you remember those sometimes. that's one of the holes i tentatively toe around.

this isn't even mentioning the obstacle i'm cruel to ignore and cruel to acknowledge. you have love. it's not with me. you don't need me. and i don't need you, but i still want you. sunshine blots the clouds and it's too bright to see why you'd want me.

i dream of touch. gentle touch, kind touch, loving touch. it's not your touch, because it's not anyone's touch. it's the wind, conjured by your smile and by my mind.

it's not your fault. you didn't do anything but smile. but be kind. but be beautiful. i'm being silly. melodramatic in the midst of the night. thanks for indulging me, only in memory and imagination.

[journalofasomething]

it's hard when you're not perfect but i think i love you anyway. it's hard when love is a heavy word but i pick it up so easily. it's hard when you can't be mine and even if you could you wouldn't, because you're--

you're someone's. and i'm an asshole for wishing you weren't. and i wish you wanted me. and i hate knowing that even free i don't think you would. i don't think you would.

[journalofasomething]

bring me wildflowers and kiss me everywhere. i will buy you roses and hold you through the night.

[journalofasomething]

i guess i just don't believe you when you say you love me. partly because you seem like the only one, partly because you don't always treat me nice, and how is that love? how is that enough?

[journalofasomething]

I am twenty four years old and a menace

Floating

Fucking floating

The fuzzy soft focus world sways

I'm scared to blink it clean

Incompetent

Always behind

Talking too fast too much too honestly

Give me a gun and I'll blast off my toe

I don't know how to hide

Even when I'm hiding

This love pours the fuck out of me

Sometimes I feel like I'm glowing with it

It isn't enough

Or isn't right

Doesn't fit people

They won't take it

Fuck this

I want to burrow away and close my eyes

Fuzzy world, soft focus

I wouldn't mind it so much if there were arms around me

Picky arms

Picky on my end

I know my soulmate isn't a magic bandaid

I know my soulmate may be absurd

(Fictitious, flawed, far far away)

I'm too tired to desire the sharp bright delight of reality

I am twenty four years old and incompetent

I don't want to face it

I don't want to face me

I want to pretend I can ignore it

Pretend I don't feel so alone

[journalofasomething]

And the thing is the you is always you. Or mostly always you. There are jumps overboard but next thing you know it's one am and the things I write here in public secret are for you, to you. He has touched me more recently, kissed me (just once) this year, talked to me just this week. I've daydreamed about his hands and his smile and his heart and it might have hurt more than it did if it didn't just bounce me back to your eyes and your hands and your chest against my cheek and eighteen, nineteen, it was nothing, it was a year, it fucking haunts me. You haunt me. In a movie this would only linger because you were coming back. I know you are not coming back. The plot has a loose end that won't be tied up and I know that I know that I know we spoke for the last time two and a half years ago and that number will only swell higher and harsher. Our story is flashbacks now, no plot twist reunion, no chainsmokers song at a hotel bar. I will never see you again. When it hurts I remind myself that you do not care that it's the truth, as if your indifference will cauterize instead of scald. I am trying to be poetic about it to distract myself from the truth that the sentence I wrote feels like a lie. My heart, fickle fool, thinks we will meet again. We won't. We won't, first love. I am trying to desensitize myself. But it's always you I'm talking to. It's never me you're talking to. I hate this. I hate wanting to let go of you. Please, I want to let go of you. I want you to be more happy memory and less hampering hindering lingering phantom. It's not your fault. But I keep seeing your face. When I write the word you, the subsequent sentences slide to your doorstep.

[journalofasomething]

Am I ever not in love with you? Am I ever in love with someone else? I genuinely don't feel capable of it. I don't know if I feel capable of anything. But definitely not of this. Where are your arms around my body, your hands in my hair, your lips on my lips? They are floating through eighteen, stuck at nineteen, shattered by twenty. Twenty four is out of focus. My heart feels shaky. It's not just you. It's my whole part.

[journalofasomething]

and while im saying sad things: i miss you. i miss you so fucking much. whatever part of you it is or was, i miss it.

[journalofasomething]

I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared

[journalofasomething]

It's daylight and I don't feel tired. Yet I feel tired. The cock has crowed 5 times now. I don't want to sleep. But I will.

[journalofasomething]

Staying up til 3am feels like a mistake. Staying up til 6am feels like peace. I don't know why.

[journalofasomething]

it's 4:30am, you know, and part of me wants to stay up all night. part of me wants to make it to sunrise and sleep all day. another part of me wants to have gone to sleep 6 hours ago. but it's already too late for that. so what's left?

[journalofasomething]

but do you think i'm gonna make it? do you think i'm gonna make it to love?