#1.
It's crazy how I fell in love with you this time. This time it wasn't because you are a hardass or because you don't care about anything. But because you came to me. Weak. You came to me in need. You came to me alone. And although your head was not on straight, you called me. I felt closer to you that day and night and now than I ever have before. I've known you for as long as I've known my best friend, and I've finally let myself trust you. Let myself fall into your eyes, without regret. I love you and I don't think I'd care if you dated anyone else, as long as I don't lose what I've been reaching for for so long.
And although we may have developed something new I will try not to tell you that. Because although I feel some kind of false love in the space between us, I won't jinx it. I know that I'm an overjoyous emotional teenage girl, but my heart scream's that I'm good enough for Jesus. If I'm good enough for that son of a bitch, how could I possibly not be good enough for you?
And although I'm happy and giddy when I hear your voice now, I'm afraid I'm jumping to conclusions simply because I hung out with you all weekend. And now that you're gone you will call me less and less each day.
So my smile will fade as your voice in my head seceeds, and the sharp, small pain will become blunt but large and heavy.
#2.
Everytime these weekends abandon me and time is all that's left I feel threatened by a pen. Like if I don't write I will just fall down dead. This time don't have anything clever to say. This time I can't tell you that I 've agreed on "Brook", that a ring has meaning, that your laundry is not a problem. This time you already know, I'm sure, that I love you, because you love me, too. And there's something inside me that laughs when someone says you're stupid, but I know there's no point in trying to hate you again.
What if you do love me, like I love you? I'm sure I could never trust you. Sure, there's a sigh of relief when you say "No, no girls today", but my anxiety builds during the next day until the night when you have time for me again.
When you are near me, I don't feel scared that anyone else can have you, so my desire to have you holding me is not as strong and passionate as when you are away from me. That is why I'm not jumping into your arms all the time. But now I long for the familiar scars on your hands and smell of your jacket.
You'd have to prove your love to me, prove you are trustworthy. But the problem rises when you won't. There's a crystal clear image in my mind of your disappointed face when I tell you this. We both know that you won't go as far as to prove yourself. You'd shrug your shoulders because you don't want me that badly. So much that you'd do whatever it takes to prove it. Because you don't love me like I love you.
#3.
When I thought I'd had it, it was the dumbest lie yet. And while everyone's lies hurt me, my own lies have been killing me. My reflection is too embarassed to stare back. And while you did what I thought I wanted I was wrong again. I thought the word love was as binding for you as it was for me or moreso. When really it's just hard on your ears and a beautiful melody to mine. I'm thorougly hurt and pissed off, and I hope I'm done now. I hope you can't talk or smile your way out of this one, and I hope I no longer am enslaved by a writing utencil every time your presence is withdrawn from me. I hope my writing can creatively come from me next time, instead of plunging onto paper with no sense or direction, just passion, whether it was love or hatred. I hope I'm done now.