lethe

so many letters left unsent, are these things better left unsaid?

late, long nights with so many thoughts filling a mind that is currently kindling a 100.2 ℉ fire, and still, my thoughts trace their embers back to you, all wrapped up in blue. I've been feeling blue.

standing still. ear pressed to the door, I've been here before, caught up in a war. it makes my heart beat more and more and more. desperation kicks in and suddenly I'm trying to listen through the floor, but it's no use. a loud crash, and hushed voices, but still, the house is filled with noises. what was that sound? what are they saying? footsteps and keys jingling, faucet turned on, it's been five hours, shouldn't this be over? I left for awhile, but clearly, awhile wasn't long enough. between the tension piercing the air and the silenced whispers, I'm unsure which is more deafening.

everyone in my family makes fun of my uncle because "I love you" scares him, and the second it's said, he decides to run and now it's the running joke in the family, at every dinner it's inescapable,  and "What happened to his girlfriend?" is constantly asked, only to be met with the same answer every goddamn time. but I wonder what they would say if they knew I'm the same way, because "I love you" scares me too and the clichés are all true and I understand every word in the love songs on the radio and 95% of the ocean is unexplored in the same way the depths of my heart are unexplored because how do you dive so deep into something so dark and expect to find some kind of light?

I thought about writing you an e-mail, because letters make my hands cramp and I don't want to ask him for any more stamps and envelopes. I thought about telling you how I was naive enough to think we were out of the woods, but now I've quickly realized we are not. we're in a sparse section of the forest, able to see a field of flowers with sunshine streaming down. happiness, bliss, safety. the darkness of the woods mocks us as we slam into the invisible forcefield blocking us from the happiness we so desperately hope for. the happiness we so desperately deserve. then I thought about telling you it's like we're deer; just a family of deer in this big forest we call home, and now we need to cross the road. but the cars keep coming, no evidence of slowing down, no way for us to dodge them. if cats have nine lives,  how many do we have? how many times does it take before  we escape this? I just want to cross the road without fe...

there are nights where I simply fall in love with the idea of the future because it just sounds so inviting. my inner romantic yearns for someone to get down on one knee and confess they want to be with me forever and ever, forever and always. I suddenly can't wait to stand in front of the love of my life, in a pretty white dress with flowers braided into my hair, ready to say the two magic words I've never spoken before. my soul lusts for nights where our bodies are illuminated by the moonlight as we tangle ourselves up in crisp cotton sheets beneath a string of fairy lights. I become excited to brush back a small toddler's hair and lovingly kiss the top of their head before I send them off to school. all I want is to dance with you at midnight in the middle of the kitchen, no music, just us and the hum of a summer storm outside. it's all about who you picture these snapshots of bliss with. there are nights where I simply fall in love with the idea of th...

it's frustrating to be so painfully aware that I am nobody's first choice. at one point, my therapist asked me why I think I seemingly, only attract girls who like to use me, girls who don't want to commit because they don't really want me, girls who see me as a second choice. I wish I had an answer for her, because then at least I could change it, edit it, revise it, rework it until it's fixed and no one will ever see me and utilize me as a second choice (or third, fourth, fifth), ever again. but I'm your "sometimes" and never your "always." I'm only good for throwing a line and pulling in, never good enough to be kept. sometimes I like to pretend that it's a "you" problem, that maybe it isn't my fault, then gradually my mind is stuck in a loop, wondering why the fuck I can never be good enough. and then I think about her. I'm only good enough for her when she's drunk, unable to keep her tongue in her mout...

if this were about finding someone, it wouldn't make any sense, now would it? if I truly had the desperation for another mind to be constantly thinking of me, I wouldn't have locked the door on her and thrown away the key. Lord knows, I already had her wrapped around my fingers.

it's not about finding someone. maybe it's about someone finding me. you don't understand, and I can't explain.

She asks if he's called. As if it's a normal occurrence. As if I would want him to call. Little does she know, this question breaks me a little bit more. It's been seven months and it still hurts me. I can go maybe a day or so without thinking about it, without thinking about him, or that night. Sometimes I just catch a glimpse of my skin out of the corner of my eye and it rushes back to me. Other times I try to be intimate with someone else, and suddenly their hands are his hands, and it scares me but I can't say anything. It holds me back from forming relationships I so desperately want to work out, it's become just another reason I'm a failure of a girlfriend. In the split second it takes for her to ask me that question, it comes back to me. And suddenly I'm there, that car, that parking lot, the single light, the neon glow of the time that was running out. His name mentioned has lit the flame, his touch sets my skin on fir...

"The only way to not have relationship problems is to stay out of relationships." The thing is, I have too much love to give to just be alone forever. I know nobody wants this love right now, but I hope it won't go to waste. Please don't let it go to waste.

'tis the lonely hour. the time at night in which I analyze everything I possibly could. the time where my brain concocts metaphors and similes; anything to explain myself. the time in which I feel like a ghost who fails at being invisible. I'm too transparent, unable to be seen or heard, yet you know I'm there. but we don't acknowledge it. we don't acknowledge anything. like how he has taken the guest room-- a guest in his own house. or how the palpable tension encourages goosebumps to spread over my skin. and then there's the web of a love life that I have weaved. fragile in some places, strong in others. of all the times to be alive, I'm fortunate enough to live at the same time as you. isn't that something?

As I currently write this, I have a face mask on (because face masks fix all problems, right?), Dance Moms opened in a separate tab, and a glass of iced tea lemonade that I’m pretending is spiked (maybe I can trick myself?), all in an attempt to distract me from what I’m feeling, which, completely contradicts the purpose of this post to express everything I’ve been avoiding actively feeling. So I’m going to lay it all out right now— what do you do when you want love, yet are afraid of a relationship? Sounds confusing? Well, trust me, it is an especially confusing emotion, and it’s one I’ve been unknowingly feeling for quite some time now. After my last breakup in the first week in August of last year, I quickly decided I wanted nothing to do with relationships and denounced the idea of them. Cut to the last fleeting days of summer as I’m about to depart to dorm at college and I was one foot into pursuing yet another romantic relationship. Isn’t my heart just so consistent? Once th...

we drive down a bumpy highway, foreign and strange and soaked with rain kissed adventure. a friendly fog fills the road and I feel more at home. I think back to the beginning of this expedition, to the views above a city I didn't belong to, and suggestive messages gingerly placed on a magnet board. my hands fumbled through the words, not fast enough to create a response to do this feeling justice. my mind becomes fixated on the little things, like old times. I'm almost grateful for it, almost, yet not quite. the little things weave a sweater for my heart to be worn upon its sleeve, a walking target and I am constantly shot at. in a world where I could be anything, I can't be myself. because I don't know how to anymore.

for the first time in many nights, I shut off all the lights and fell asleep, because the darkness seemed to call me back to where I belong. maybe what I'm really meant to be is alone.

we haven't been talking, but maybe that's okay, because I really have no clue what to say. it's been a few days of running around this maze, trying to assemble mismatched thoughts to fit into my heart. but the pieces are all wrong. I don't have the right words, because all I want to say is that this isn't what I want anymore and I'm sorry I had to find out this way.

I thought this was what I wanted, so I packed a bag full of courage and went on this adventure. A few steps in and I'm lost in a deep forest of feelings with no clear path to be found. I had no idea it would be like this, I've set myself up for failure in this quest. I wish I could go back to the beginning, where I studied the map and traced each route with my fingers before my beginning. Now darkness is nearing, the skies have never looked this daunting and challenging, night creeping in to kill. There are too many towering trees threatening to fall and howling wolves with their fangs bared; I tremble with every delicate step, waiting for my foot to be set right in a trap.