It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do."
how to bloom after
so can you."
This is not your destruction.
This is your birth."
sometimes I kiss people I shouldn’t kiss and let them unbutton my jeans sometimes I leave English class without asking and walk in angular circles until I can hear the blood rushing under my skin sometimes I run until I can’t breathe sometimes I sit in the rain sometimes I sleep for six hours in the middle of the day
sometimes I drive too fast and listen to my music so loud that it hurts sometimes I drink until everything goes black and I don’t remember talking about you all night (even though I do)
sometimes I cry about books and about people who died hundreds of years ago sometimes I don’t cry even though I want to more than anything sometimes I ignore the people I love sometimes hold myself to keep everything in because you are not here to do it
sometimes I think I’m alive sometimes I think I probably never will be"
i was going to call you but then i realized how pathetic that would be
i hope you’re happy with her and your new job and your new apartment
i wonder if you still hang a map of the world on your bedroom wall
i wonder if you really enjoy sitting in that office all day
i wonder if she’s wonderful
i bet she’s wonderful
i bet she doesn’t forget to water your plants when you ask her to
i bet she doesn’t wake you up at 2 am because she’s crying over irrelevant shit that happened years ago
i bet her hands don’t shake and her teeth aren’t crooked
i bet your mom really likes her and she gets along with your friends
i bet she can cook more than just burnt toast and grilled cheese
i’m happy for you, i really am
i’m glad that you finally found someone who doesn’t make you want to shove your head through the wall
i just wish i could’ve been enough"
i think freckles, stretch marks, tattoos, bruises, birthmarks and scars are probably the coolest thing, you started with almost a blank canvas and look at u now, all this evidence that you’ve lived and the sun has shone on you and you’ve grown and maybe tripped up a few times and liked an image so much u made it a permanent part of u, beautiful.
That’s one of the most uplifting things I’ve readThis needs to get passed around more
u know when u really like someone and literally every little thing they do is cute and no matter what face they make they always look perfect to you