Ironic how the extra large for this picture is so much bigger.
I hate how you know the most about what's going on right now, and you can still say that I'm someone who can take care of themselves, a survivor even if I'm all alone.
Stop fucking forcing me into her shoes.
I'm not her.
I don't want to be.
You hate her.
I'm my own person.
Every single reference you make kills me.
I can't survive alone right now. I hate being alone. Why else would I keep coming back?
You're part of the problem. If I were her, the smart thing to do would be to cut you out of my life.
If I were her, I'd do it with a scalpel, so cleanly, that each of your edges gone from me.
The imprint of you, your outline wouldn't bleed, wouldn't hurt.
There wouldn't be chunks of myself, hacked off in the process.
No vital parts let behind.
There are people who love me. Or at least they say they do.
I can't even accept them.
You've ruined me.
I know you'd never, ever say it to me.
I have no misguided expectations of a happily ever after.
Let me guess. You're one of those people who gets easily attached to someone. You can say you really like someone, even when you haven't known that person for awhile. You expect so much from this person. But the problem is, this person you're attached to, isn't attached to you. You're always the one with more to say, always the one asking to hang out and always the one being affectionate and they're just whatever about it. Now, you miss someone who doesn't miss you, you wanna be with someone who doesn't want to be with you, and you're fucked. Because the power of the relationship goes to the one who cares less. - Tony "Teddie" Nguyen
"Because the power of the relationship goes to the one who cares less."
Why can't I want the one that wants me?
Just so I can be the one who cares less.
Even that's unhealthy, using him to recompensate all that I've lost for you.
It's about what you put forth, the effort and sacrifices that make a relationship.
ALAN: You know, I look at you, and it's funny, you don't remind me of myself exactly. But you remind me of a certain time; I remember what I used to think love was then. That it was fireworks... and explosions... But it's not. It's time. To go through the seasons together; through change, through the ups and downs. To be able to look your beloved in the eye and say: 'we did that together as one. We chose each other above all else.' That's love. It's unexplainable. It's a secret that can only be known once you've done the time.
Alan Rickman in Dark Harbor.
I don't dare to wish for anything like that.
At least, not with you.
But...just a little more.
Please.
No comments:
Post a Comment