What I've Become.

Please let me go as unscarred as possible.

I do want to see you. I do. With everything I'm made of, but I know that would damage me. Deeply. So I'm left to choose the weaker path, of running. Of hiding my weary, dirt-streaked, bruise-stained body behind lies of dead cell phone batteries and strict nightly curfews; I choose to never face you again.

And I like to tell myself I'm brave anyways. At least I'm escaping, I say. But it's no good. I know what a coward I am, and I despise my weaknesses.

I know if I saw you, one last time, just the two of us, it would all appear. A mess of confessions and confusions and anger and pain, and a horror worse still: desire.

So I will hide away until I can leave this place for always. This time I won't turn around; I won't stare back at you as drops race each other across the pane, wondering on what ifs; I will not ready myself for some glorious return. Because I know now that there will never be one. I won't think on your life, at all, any longer. I'm really leaving. 

I just have to make it out alive.

S.

{Photo via: We Heart It}

Trick of the light.

I found out today that that smile isn't just for me. Not that I should have thought it so. But still.
It changes things, I think.

Maybe it gives it less power over me. Knowing that it has been used - is being used - on others. Knowing it's been weakening more knees than my own, well, perhaps it makes mine stronger.

I like to think so, anyhow.
But truth be told, I may soon forget. Oh, as soon as it's shot in my direction again, I imagine.

For I am a stupid girl. Oh, so very stupid. And I forget what a cynic I am. I forget that I've given up on love, and on true, honest men that can be devoted to one woman for the rest of their lives. I forget that words like "love" and "forever" were made up by cruel people behind books, instruments and Hollywood posters with nothing to do but inflict a cold, hard misery on real life for the sake of a best seller or a good show. I forget so much with a glance.

With a glance, I believe in faithful partners. In lasting love. In honest answers. In trust and trustworthiness. --- All fake. All blind. All made up for a story with a happy ending.

It's time I woke up. It's time I opened my eyes. It's time I said goodbye.

S.

{Photo via: We Heart It}

Please understand.

I haven't put a word to how I feel about you yet. As far as words can go, they still haven't reached here. Not that I can find, anyway. And not in a sappy love-song kind of way. No, I'm not saying that I have some kind of love or a passion that goes deeper and further than language. Just a feeling I haven't had before.

I could try here, to write out what I know. To put the pen towards honest words; honest feelings. But you know that would open me up more than I am willing, making me just a step further out of my boundaries than I can allow.

You can - and will - read between the lines and answer for yourself; you're probably better at finding the words than me.

-- There are a handful of things that I fear in this world. The deepest of these, the ones that I think on most, are the ones surrounding relationships. Any relationship. Any closeness.

This is where I stumble. This is why I fail. And this is where you brush up to the border; sticking your foot in the door and scaring me, for I have not yet become the person I need be.

I will never be her. Not so far as I can see.

I already know what you need, and - most importantly - what you don't.

I am the latter - please understand.

S.

{Photo via: Favim}

Forbidden Love.

Do you choose who you love?

Now, I know I'm using the term "love" too loosely here. And I apologize because I don't like how overused it has become. And realistically, I think love is a choice.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." - 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

That kind of love is definitely a choice.

But that's not what I meant. I guess really, I want to know if like is a choice. Infatuation. Attraction.

I mean, do you choose which person steals your heart? Can you control who makes you happy? Who makes your heart skip a beat? Who can put a smile on your face just by showing up.

Because those things feel so very involuntary.

And, if you try to tell whatever it is, your heart, your mind - your pancreas for that matter - not to feel those little things that come so naturally, why does it seem to work in reverse?

Just something that's been on my mind..

S