To whom it may concern,
I ask for a lot of things, but being a detective is not one of them. I am used to the tricks and how quick you can flip the script to “why were you even looking when you said you trust me?” See that’s where you’re wrong, I trust that I can’t trust you, so that’s why I trust myself to never let my guard down against someone like you. Imagine me falling backwards with you behind me as the only intervention between I and the concrete. A person would have to be truly mad to put their own best personal interest and prevention of injury in the hands of another person. See, we don’t have to do this, I’m fine by myself, I’ll sacrifice the future family photos and meaningful memories that will mean so much more when you’re gone because we can’t make anymore because you’re not dead, but gone, which is virtually the same thing, and I can’t stop thinking about you, and the “what ifs” and what everything could have became, and these tears keep staining my fucking page as I write this letter that I’ll never give to you, and then I realize I hate you because I need an emotion strong enough to counter balance all of the love that I had for you…
…and it’s like everytime I wake up the world is on fire again,
And as I sleep the waves from a sea of darkness wash out every ember.
Looking forward that’s what the world teaches us, continuously, non stop, everlasting. Looking forward is the cure for people who love to stay in the past. But me? I choose to do neither. I can stay here all day. This very image shows you the kind of heart I have. The long road forward. But the only difference between myself and others is I have no clue on how to control all of my emotions at once. I let them wander, for they make me what I am. This road takes you back to the mother planet but it never ends for me, see, the smoke carries different aromas of my love, of my pain, of my fear, of my anger, and of myself overall. Whispers come from the sidelines, as the smoke gets thicker and more intoxicating, you can’t help but wonder “how does she keep all of this inside of her small being!?” My secret is the unknown. See you all suffer from the unknown except for me. I walk towards the unknown with bright knowledgeable blind eyes (notice the contradiction). I say blind because that is expected from an ordinary person. When you let your emotions and mind wander freely, that is considered to be a major threat. A plethora of individuals would say to you, “it’s good to let your mind rest! You can keep calm.” I cannot. I will not. I may not. For my mind is not something that should be put in an abeyance. Pausing is when you put your self at risk. Your vulnerability is at a high. So therefore I continue to walk, drive, glide, crawl, and sit up and down this eternal road. I will continue to let my smoke come from under and rise above on the sidelines, for those little ashes that come from the fire within me show you who I really am, once these pulverulent ashes are in your hands, they will take a form of a slideshow, or even a flip book animation. The ashes will show you my hardships and my imagination. They shall speak to you about my legacy, how I break mold just by looking at it. When I am within 10 feet of you, your body will being to vibrate with massive inspiration and visions. So I dare you to take a walk down this road, for you will not only find my story, you will make one of your own .
The feeling of falling out of love is watching a star die, a million miles away, knowing there’s nothing you can do aside from watch and know that everything related to it has ran it’s course. An easy contender for one of the most miserable feelings ever felt, because every night you would go out and make a wish on it, and the star would wish for your return every night. You went through the trouble of finding the star, searching a pitch black sea for forever, to only one night watch what took forever, disappear forever, without so much as an explanation. As an adult, you’re expected to get over these occurrences and deny ever believing in fairy tales of stars having any kind of relevance or meaningfulness to your existence, so as that star expired, a piece of you dies along with it, and you drag it along daily, weighing you down, hoping no one notices or sees, but they do. Nothing tastes the same, feels the same, and at the thought your eyes begin to glitter and glisten like your love in the sky once was. And everytime you tell yourself to not look for love in the sky, because it is something beautiful yet unattainable, you never listen, becuase a million miles away doesn’t look so far at night. Closer to the stars, closer to your dreams.
Relationships are equations with entirely too many variables. There’s you, me, your ex, mine, your parents, relatives, friends, strangers, potential soulmates… How did we end up together? Nothing last forever, yet we have this idea in the first chapter of us that this story is never ending. Is love the glue that holds our book together?
Boredom, repetition, endurance, love, love, love. Love is starting to become this catch all, magical, bandage word that once you say it, everything is going to be okay again, but it isn’t. Love is tentacles and anchors. Love lets me overlook, love lets me down, love lifts me up. I planted seeds in you and watched them grow into a tree and you expect me to just leave?
I like being alone. Single variable, I can change when I want, become apart of different formulas with varying results. I’m not tied to anything, it’s a great feeling. Maybe love is a library, and everyone is just borrowing a new feeling from a new person. I loved dinosaurs, cars, trains, sports growing up and everything changed so rapidly. Maybe you’re right for me right now and not later.
I don’t like traditional. I’ve owned material items longer than I’ve been in relationships, what does this say about me? I love myeself, I love life .. Why do I need to love you too?
nothing, going nowhere fast
at the speed of light
Idk like it’s crazy how you had this billionth of a chance of being born, got passed that, could have died from almost anything along the way, collected experiences and memories, these memories and experiences made you, then it’s like you get sucked into these ideas put into ur head by everyone else saying what u should do, how to love, live and just accept whatever everything is, and I barely can have a conversation outside of a few people about anything important, the irony that social media has a bunch of everyone close to you being sucked into the idea of something, rather than actually living that something, and it’s like the older I get, the less interesting almost everything and almost everyone is becoming, because you can expect the same response to the same situations from everyone, there are no more random roadtrips, no more staring at the stars just because, or anything important anyone has to say, and it’s coming from everyone that you spend the most time with, I feel my soul slowly being drained and I’m fighting it, but idk how long it’s going to last…what’s attempting to be involved with anything interesting other than a bunch of people who talk about doing amazing things but never actually do them