Months x 3

-------- Sometime in May 2007 --------

It’s that silence.

I utterly despise that kind of unexplained, sudden, and complete silence. I don’t care if it’s brief or stupidly one-sided or even irrational. I hate it because every second is so damnably…tense.

I can’t relax in that sort of silence, that kind of not knowing.

With other people, it’s not like that. I cut all my friends a lot of slack because they’re tolerant of me in all my crazy entireties. And, for the everyday people who don’t claim an emotional part of me.

Bluntly put—with others, I don’t obsess. We all have our own lives to tend to. Shit may (and will) happen, and we are totally allowed to lose our minds for a moment.

But it bothers hurts me like no other when it’s from you. Because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Hurting me. I don’t fucking care if something came up and sorry, you got busy and forgot.

Because under all my layers of bravado, I do care.

Too much.

-------- Sometime in June 2007 --------

I don’t want to realize that your indifference and at times guarded distance is for me, for my damned pitiful sake. Then it takes all the justifiable steam out of my anger towards you. Self-pitying SUCKS and tears make my eyes hideously puffy. I’d rather have that anger back and a fighting will.

You once explained to me that when you worried, it wasn’t for yourself. You said you worried for me.

God, how I despised and loved those words. In that instant, I realized you held in your hands the power to melt away my anger, my frustration, my fears…and my heart.

So, I hated that. And, you.

All the while wishing you’d do that again.

Again and again and again…

-------- July 1st, 2007 --------

I want to hear that you’re hurting as much as my heart is bleeding. I don’t care if that means you’re exaggerating. I want to hear it, damn it.

Sometimes, I fear all that bleeding will cause my heart to dry out and shrivel up into an ugly prune. So, I beg for a quick-fix and say fuck the consequences.

I beg that somehow you’ll let go of me. Then beg for you to be unsuccessful.


I don’t want to hear that you’ll hold back because it’s what I need to move on. I secretly wanted to hear you say how much you wished you could hold me instead.

But then again, I know that if you were to actually say so, you wouldn’t be the person I adore and cherish. No, you wouldn’t be the person who’d respect my wishes to avoid certain topics because they reminded me of my past…with you.

You wouldn’t be the person who’s anxious that an ocean away, I might be sad because of the hurt you’ve caused. The person who’d send me hilarious YouTube videos to make sure I can still laugh and smile because of you.

Once more, I hate you for melting away my frustrated anger and my broken heart.


And yet, I can't help but still...somehow...wish to thank you.