I got bored today (I forgot how nice boredom can feel...) and started sorting through old stuff I'd written. I stumbled across some things that made me get the sappy-happy glow of "God, I'm good." Thus, I must share a few.
This one is -- well, I'm not really sure. A jumble of song lines and bursts of emotion inspired by the book/movie He's Just Not That Into You. I wrote this quite awhile ago; a bit of truth, a bit of fiction (emphasis on the fiction -- really, this isn't how I feel anymore. By a long, long way), but a lot of stuff that makes me go "Oooo."
The italicized lines are the songs. Ten points to whoever can guess what songs I used.
I wish that we could give it a go. See if we could be something.
It’ll be different, this time. This one. This breath. It’ll be pure, this time. This one. This breath. It won’t hurt.
Suppose I never ever let you kiss me so sweet, and so soft.
It’s nice, this time. It fits, this one. But the remnants of the past jab into my chest every time you press your body against mine. All those shards of broken hearts still litter my thoughts, still dangle from my skin like the thorny stems of roses. They were beautiful, once. They were whole, once. They looked like you, once.
Some of it’s just really dumb. But I love it when you sing to me, and you could sing me anything.
So quickly, this time. That’s how it happens, isn’t it? That’s what they all say it feels like. But the voice in my head, the shards in my skin, they all say that it’s not. That it hurts. That it will always only hurt, and I will always end up where I always was before. That I should see beyond the smiles and touches, the gentleness and the happiness. So I close off, and with each word you echo and with each action you imitate, I shrink farther and farther away from you. From them. It’s all the same.
I wish that without me your heart would break.
I wish you weren’t like them. I wish so badly my heart burns and my chest hardens and a part of me is constantly weeping. I wish you would prove me wrong, I wish one of you would prove me wrong, just once. I beg of you, plead of you, but the begging and pleading never become more than a thought in my head, and you walk on by, and the voice in my head and the shards in my skin are right.
I hear in my mind all of this music and it breaks my heart.
I’m tired of waiting on you. I’m tired of being disappointed. I won't be disappointed anymore. I’m tired of wondering and waiting and wishing, all because you’re in control. Don’t do too much or rush too quickly or initiate too soon, you’ll scare him away. Are you really that skittish? Are you really that weak? I must be the one in pain so you don’t run. Is it even worth it? Is it? I’m tired, I’m so tired. No. It isn’t worth it.
Basically, I wish that you loved me.