I can see the pain living in your eyes
And I know how hard you try
You deserve to have much more
I can feel your heart and I sympathize
And I’ll never criticize
All you’ve ever meant to my life
I don’t want to let you down
I don’t want to lead you on
I don’t want to hold you back
From where you might belong
You would never ask me why
My heart is so disguised
I just can’t live a lie anymore
I would rather hurt myself
Than to ever make you cry
There’s nothing left to say but goodbye
—Air Supply, Goodbye
Over four years ago, I started this blog because of you. I felt like you never understood me, so I needed a place where I could express myself without any inhibitions.
I had a lot of hope in you, being drawn to your youth and innocence. A lot of hope in us. I always thought you were like clay I could mold. Someone who would eventually complete me, but you never changed or showed improvement.
It took me a long time to realize how wrong it was for me to do that. How wrong it was for me to want you to be a different person.
I hope I didn’t hurt you. I heard from your brother that you’re already on your Masters degree. I hope he’s healthy and happy. I hope your parents are doing well, that your dad is retired and they’re travelling out east like they’ve always wanted when you started university.
There are a lot of fond memories of our time together. I wonder if you believed me when I said that I wanted to marry you. It was something I honestly felt at the time, until things started falling apart, and I went through one of my phases again. It wasn’t your fault.
I had to end it before I led you on any further.
The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series
I’ve never been against any form of (non-permanent) self-mutilation, as long as it’s not considered a solution to a problem. After all, some people watch TV to get their minds off things, others pull out carving knives and make designs on their arms. Neither activity actually helps a situation, but are just ways to deal with things that can’t be helped.
I always make sure that I don’t have any razor blades handy. I figure that if it ever gets to the very rare point that I want to cut, I’ll be calm again by the time I go out and buy some, sort of like a cool-down period for firearms.
I’m proud of the fact that I’m strong enough now to resist, that if I did have a pack handy, I wouldn’t reach for it as a release.
FDR had nothing on me.
Some cut. Some burn.
I can see it in your eyes
I can hear it in your voice
the signs are obvious
that all we had has run its course
—Matchbook, Strung Out
The hardest thing isn’t knowing this’ll end, because the certainty of such a fact was clear from the moment we started. It’s knowing that the end is coming and still falling in love that’s the hardest.
How can I distance myself when everything you do draws me closer? If only it wasn’t so fruitless to keep reminding myself that this will never last. All that can be said is that it’s worth it. Everything I’ll be feeling soon is worth another night lying next to you, worth another morning waking up with you.
So give me one more kiss, one more taste of your lips, and tell me how much you’ll miss this.