Time became distance. Soul mates we remain, only in memory. The ends of the world will be our years to come.
I had let time chew away the frayed ends of heartstrings. We were puppets succumbed to the very miseries of the world we used to curse.
You got what you wanted. I gave up what I didn’t want. It’s not the same thing.
I feel it cracking. I feel myself swirling. I’m suddenly afraid.
Why did I have to play the fool? Would it have hurt less if I hadn’t told him I loved him so? How do I stop myself from falling in the same trap, over and over again?
I have let time take you away. And now I cannot reach out and touch you. I can see you across the mirror, but my fingers touch only the cracked glass that reflects a broken me.
I was drawn to him because he is like me; simpler but fucked up just the same.
The universe won’t let you read me. You’d understand if you knew, wouldn’t you?
Just begin soon. Get the damn celebrations and the enthusiastic welcomes over with already.
This time of year is trying enough for a voluntarily yet somehow unwillingly single girl, without having her birthday squashed right between Christmas and New Years Eve. I wish I could sleep through it all, and wake up in the New Year. A fresh start, so to say, as I know perfectly well it’s just a state of mind. I also know that change comes at its own sweet time.
Sometimes I just wish I wasn’t complicated. I wish I never knew the convenience of a drink. I wish I’d never known how layers of complexity dissolve and wash away in the sparkling liquids. I wish I didn’t meet people who are just plain simple. Cause complicated is just foolish when you throw away every perfectly good chance at happiness, for no explainable reason. I wish I didn’t have that raging need to think and over think so goddamn much.
I wish I wasn’t lost, but if I wasn’t lost, I wouldn’t know that I needed to be lost to know that I need to seek something vague that may or may not give me happiness, and that all I know is what I don’t want which may or may not have given me happiness had I stuck on to it a little longer. I wish I didn’t have the ability to generate thoughts such as above.
I am a million, tiny little pieces and every place I go, I’ve left behind traces. Travels become what you are; the mind is always someplace far. My soul can never be whole unless I can be every place I’ve ever been. And yet I’ll never go back, to pick up all the pieces I lost. It’s another part of me, cold, silent and broken.