Tag Archives: sad

If it wasn’t love, what was it?

It wasn’t love.

I knew it wasnt love, because the silences between us should’ve flit the air as freely as the clear waters of a river heading downstream, comfortable even tumbling over rocks and rubble. Instead, they stood heavily amidst us like a house of bricks that never budged, no matter how hard we huffed and puffed.

I knew it wasn’t love, because shouldn’t we have always wished happiness upon each other?  Yet, you tied my heartstrings into knots, harsh and unforgiving, impossible to untangle. And every time you did, I found myself wishing more and more that the rope you had used would somehow lasso from my heart onto yours-so you could feel every single tug of pain exactly how I did.

I knew it wasn’t love, because although love is an endless game, I shouldn’t have constantly felt like the sore loser that desperately tried-and failed- to get to the top. Every wrong you imposed on me I would throw back at you as hard as I possibly could, wanting so badly to win just

for

once-

I knew that love wasn’t a competition of who could hurt each other more so why did I spend every moment of my time with you trying to scale my way up on the rankings?

I knew it wasn’t love. Every sign of affection you fed me I gobbled up like a starving coyote that finally caught a rabbit. I was a little girl, and your words were my favourite blanket- every compliment, every reassuring word that spilled out of your mouth I clung on to for dear life. I always hoped that these words would make up for the fact that you were not the one for me.

Love wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But if it wasn’t love, what was it?

If it wasn’t love, why does my heart still take flight at every mention of your name? Or maybe flight is the wrong word- it feels more like a plane getting hit by the turbulence of merciless winds. Surely having a tsunami within me, feeling the impact of tidal waves crash onto every single inch of my stomach isn’t normal?

If it wasn’t love, then why is every second of my day consumed with the thought of you? Washing the dishes- you. Eating breakfast- you, talking to my friends- you, sweepingthefloormakingcoffeeclosingmyeyestogotosleep-you, and waking up, my eyes still bleary from sleep and my brain just beginning to function properly-you.

If it wasn’t love, then why does every silver car that drives by make me think of the way that you sighed on the freeway as you took my hand and placed it in yours? Why do my insides become a twisting, turning roller coaster everytime the radio plays the stupid rap songs you listen to? Why does every single strand of hair on my skin rise when I think of your skin on mine?

If it wasn’t love, you moving on from me shouldn’t make my throat close up like there is something sitting inside it, blocking the airway and leaving me choking. The way you smile- shy and innocent, pure and harmless-should not hurt me the way it does now that I know that it is no longer me that you are smiling at.

It wasn’t love.

I know it wasn’t love.

But love was at a dead end

And I was on a one way street.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You

Sometimes I wonder what you’re doing,

how you’re doing

and if you ever think of me

and then I realize

you don’t care

you won’t care

you never cared

and I realize

the weight of the word “never”

in “I’d never do that to you”

was, to me,

a giant boulder

teetering on the edge of a rocky cliff

but as light as a feather to you

and it hurts

every part of me hurts

because I would’ve done anything,

said anything,

that would make you want me

as much as I wanted you

but you didn’t

you never did

and you never will.

 

The Story of Us

1:40 am

You were only slightly more than a stranger to me- someone I occasionally glanced at in the hallways, a smile on the way to my next class. Although you had never formally introduced yourself, I only knew of you by name. I had heard it in passing, nothing more than empty gossip- what had you done this time? You broke it off with her after she had given you the only thing you were after her for? The longest amount of time I had spent with you was with a large group of friends at a dodgy bar near school, but we hadn’t talked. All I remember about you that day was the wisps of smoke surrounding us, and the lack of enthusiasm in your voice when I asked you if you did it often.

I still liked to smile at you. Your smile was sunshine to me. You know those clichés you hear in every pathetic romance novel? That was how I felt when I saw you smile. It was like sinking into a hot tub on a cold day- the feeling of being enveloped with warmth, a cacoon of comfort and safety. I liked the way your cheeks would turn slightly red when you smiled at me. You looked like a flushed little boy who had been out in the sun for too long. Soon, I realized that I looked forward to seeing that smile every day.

I remember what I was wearing the first time you talked to me, how I did my hair- black and white, a skirt speckled with hearts, hair tossed messily over one shoulder. I was studying on the table to the right, slightly behind the rest. I usually studied here alone. I remember seeing you approaching, and I smiled at you. I waited for the smile back, the rays of sun, the gold-infused warmth to flood over me. Instead, you slid into the chair on my right. I had always preferred being on the right of other people, but I didn’t tell you to move. Perhaps that moment, although it sounds stupid, should’ve told me that you were not made for me. I remember our conversation flowing as effortlessly as the waves in the deep sea. Okay, there were some awkward pauses, scattered eye contact, self-conscious giggles- but even waves tumble over one another sometimes. I remember putting lip gloss on the toilet after our first conversation. “That was weird,” I had said to my best friend. “I just talked to him for an hour.”

I could tell from that very first conversation that I was in trouble.

Our first conversation was the start of many. The table to the right, slightly behind the rest, was no longer was my study table, but ours. Every day we pretended to be surprised every time we saw each other, but I made sure I sat in that same spot every damn day, and you took the long way on the way to the bathroom just so you could feign a casual ‘bump’ into me. We messaged each other twenty four seven. I couldn’t listen to the bing of my phone without thinking of you. I stayed up typing to you, head under the covers, my thumbs tapping at speed time on the surface of my screen until the lazy sun peeking through the window told me that dawn was upon me. You continued to be my ocean, and I rode out the wave beneath me every time you talked to me, the wind roaring in my ears and brushing against my skin. I guess what I didn’t realize was that waves all have to crash at some point.

The first time I held your hand was a week before my finals. I was scribbling something about Sigmund Freud on a piece of paper when I felt your arm snake around me, carefully, slowly, like a viper within long grass approaching its prey. My heart was pounding against my chest and I hoped you couldn’t hear it. It was so innocent. I had never let a boy so close to me before. Your hand gently nudged my shoulder, pulled me closer towards you. Like a timid rabbit,  I made no eye-contact as I reached up ever-so-slightly to interlace my fingers with yours. Just like that, you had caught me.

I knew “are you still up for watching that movie?” was an invitation for me to kiss you, yet I could have never been fully prepared for that moment. I had always been afraid of the cold, and damn, was it cold- but I’m very certain that the goosebumps rising up on my skin wasn’t purely from the air-conditioning in the cinema. I was so scared. I had never done it before, and I didn’t know how to. It took me almost one hour to pep talk myself into it.  You started off rubbing your thumb against mine, then it moved to my shoulder. Every touch had electricity surging through my body. The moment your thumb moved to my lip was the moment I decided to do it. Come on. What’s there to lose? So I lifted my head from your shoulder, turned it to the left. 10 degrees. That was it, and I was kissing you, and it was twenty seconds of too much tongue and teeth crashing and our noses bumping. I pulled away. No more for you that night.

Once I had learnt how to do it, you kissed me everywhere- on the escalators in busy shopping malls, standing one step below me. You kissed me on the railing of the closed playground, mumbling that you didn’t care that there was a security guard watching us. You kissed me in multiple cinema seats, even in the scariest most climatic part of the movies. You kissed me in stairways, the pavement outside my house, the backseat of your car. The backseat of your car was your favourite. You would play your favourite playlist, then pull me into you. Then, after five minutes, when cuddling got too boring for you, you would slowly tilt my head towards yours. One time we hung up your sweaty football kit in front of your windows so no one could see inside, and kissed for so long your playlist had started to repeat. You pulled me on top of you and kissed my neck. Your hands were all over me that night.

I remember when you gradually started talking to me less. I was confused- you showed all the right signs of wanting me when I was with you- thumb always stroking my hip, arm always around me- you were physically close, yet you were so, so far. What used to be “I miss you” and “I wish I could hold you” and “I like you so, so much” turned into half-assed messages at midnight, “sorry, I was with my friends”. I started to attach myself to you. I knew I was I was suffocating you but sometimes being in the ocean made it hard for me to breathe. The more I clung on, the more I felt you slipping through my fingers.

I remember the first time you made me cry. The tears had slipped from my eyes to my white pillowcase, forming a small, circular patch of grey that gradually grew bigger and bigger. I remember thinking to myself that I had never cried over a guy before.

I remember the first time you didn’t speak to me for a day. I waited and waited for the bing! of my phone, one I had heard so many times before. One I had smiled at so many times before. It didn’t come. I went to sleep for the first time without a goodnight message from you.

I remember when you told me the reason why you were so distant was because you had some problems of your own. You felt useless, like you didn’t deserve to live. I had cried over you plenty of times by then, and as you told me this the familiar feeling of a tear slipping down my face repeated itself once again. I knew I couldn’t fix you, no matter how hard I tried. Everything will be okay. I’m always here for you.

“Do you think it would be better if we were friends for the moment?”

“Yeah, I think it would. I’m sorry, things are just really busy right now.”

“It’s okay, I’m always here for you.”

“Me too. Whenever you need me.”

I remember crying myself to sleep every night for three weeks on end. I remember watching you slowly fade away. I remember feeling like I was the only one who cared.

“So, why aren’t you two together anymore?”

“I just couldn’t deal with her anymore.”

How painful it was, to hear that. How mortifying it was to have defended you to everyone, thinking you were different. .

“Are you over me?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Humiliation. Absolute humiliation.

I remember how you made me feel. Ambivalence- happiness and sadness all at once. We were both waves but we just never rolled in at the same time. I tell myself I don’t need you, and that I don’t miss you. But I do, every single day.  I remember how you feel against me, how you smell, even how you drive with only one hand on the wheel. remember it all. I just hope that one day I am able to say that I remember the day I got over you.

3:22 am.

 

 

 

You are

 

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You are not your grades,

the bank notes you have stuffed in your wallet

You are not the length of your hair,

the size of your waist,

your height,

the colour of your skin,

even your reflection in the mirror

You are

the powdered sugar in the cake you last baked,

that dissolved on the tip of your tongue,

the seashell you found at the beach when you were a kid,

the one you pressed to your ear for days,

you are the sound of the ocean you heard within it,

the crashing of the waves against the shore,

you are the flutter of the wind in the trees,

in your hair,

on your cheeks,

you are the glitter that fell from the sky on New Years Eve,

you are iridescent

you are

the golden star you stuck on the top of your page in kindergarten,

your tongue sticking out in concentration as you got it

just

right,

perfectly straight, you are

the doodles of black ink you drew on your wrist when you were fourteen,

of stars, planets, the sun and moon,

on each and every finger until no skin was left, just orbits

you are the sun and moon,

the rays that hit your skin on the last days of summer,

the glow that you gaze up at in the hours of midnight,

wondering how you got here,

how anything is real,

you are

the song that you dance to in your room when nobody’s watching,

the smile in your voice at your last concert,

the glimmer of glow sticks in the crowd,

or the saxophone in the background of your favourite disney song,

what you listen to when you’re happy, sad

or anything in between.

you are the fort you crawl under when you’re cold,

blanketed by white, protected,

warm,

you are waking up on a sunday morning,

the light that simmers through the curtains,

or the dust that floats in it,

you are the twinkles twirled around the Christmas tree,

the monkey bars you sat on top of with your best friend,

or the grip of her hand n yours,

the rope swing that stretched out over the sea,

the wind in the air when you swung,

Or maybe you’re

the disappointment in your mum’s voice when you come home too late, or

the lurch in your stomach when you’re speaking in public,

the stutter in your voice,

the weights on your eyelids

when you’ve gotten no sleep,

the feeling you get when you haven’t left the house in five days,

sluggish, slow, stagnant,

maybe you’re

everything at once,

everything you know,

everything you believe

everything you dream,

and all the magic that’s in it.

 

THIS DOESNT EVEN MaKE SENSE BUT I HAVE NEGLECTED THIS BLOG FOR SO LONG AND I WAS LISTENING TO OLD DISNEY SONGS AND I FELT SAD AND I FELT LIKE I WANTED TO WRITE THIS AND I WROTE IT IN TEN MINS SO HOPE YOU ENJOY ❤ MWAH

 

 

Quote Of The Day

I JUST

This is a quote from one of my favourite songs ever ever ever, Never Grow Up by Taylor Swift.

I think it is so powerful because it makes you appreciative for everything you have. Look around you, are you on your bed, your sofa, lying on the floor? What’s scattered around you? Clothes, your phone,  a teddybear? Someday, these small things won’t exist anymore. They’ll break or get lost in the move, or maybe you just wont want them in ten years. So appreciate the little things you have.

But appreciate the big things you have too, and I’m not talking about things that are big in size. I’m talking about your family, your friends, even your pets. Everyone’s growing older. Every second that passes is precious, you only have so little time. I think with everyone being in such a rush to grow up, you forget that your parents are growing older too. And so are your older siblings, aunties, uncles, grandparents. Don’t take them for granted- appreciate everything they do for you.

This quote is sad, it makes you realize you aren’t going to live forever and neither are the people around you, which is why you have to give everyone the love they deserve to have.

“I’M SORRY”

tumblr_static_i_m_sorryThose may be the two most difficult words to say in the english language. Or any language, really.

Although you probably say it everyday, squealing it when you step on someone’s foot on the bus, or mumbling it when you accidentally elbow your brother in the ribs.

I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about when it really matters,

Because I’m sorry doesn’t just mean: “I’m sorry”.

It means

“Don’t be mad at me”

“I don’t know what I did but I don’t care”

“Lets be friends”

“Lets go back to the way things were before”

“Lets talk again”

“I miss speaking to you”

“I don’t want to lose you”

The words “I’m sorry” are so hard to say because for once you have to swallow your pride no matter how sticky and bitter it is in your throat, and if someone were to ask you if you did anything wrong the answer would be no. You don’t care about that because you’re sick of all the “he said she said”s and accusing and blaming.

Or maybe you’re sick of the silence, because even spraying insults in your face would be better than not saying a word to each other at all.

Because whether you say sorry or not is life or death- the relationship is hanging by a string on the edge of the highest cliff in the world and the only way you can save it is to say the two words you never thought would leave your lips when it all begun.

Saying sorry doesn’t come easy, it doesn’t come simple. It says a lot to the other person but more importantly it says a lot about you. It’s putting someone else before yourself, it’s admitting what you did was wrong. It’s saying “Okay, you come before my pride” and “you’re more important than that”. It’s a thousand words fit into two.


I’M SORRY THIS IS SO BAD ITS 2:45 IN THE MORNING SOME PEOPLE ARE GOOD AT WRITING AT THIS TIME I AM MOST DEFINITELY NOT. I’M SO GOING TO REGRET THIS IN A FEW DAYS. ADIOS