20 years old. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings, so I write them away
I wonder if you can see what I see. It's always been one of my greatest flaws: I have wild, vivid dreams. Fantastical dreams. Dreams that often never become reality. It's almost eerie how detailed my fantasies are.
By Katie D6 years ago in Humans
Let's be very clear: I know you didn't leave the first time around. I know good and goddamn well that I pushed you away with my cold, short replies and half-assed excuses. I know you had nothing to do with the sour taste that our demise left in my mouth. The worst part was that it ended before it ever truly began all because I was scared. Terrified.
Use your mouth to pry my own open and kiss me senseless—not to whisper sweetness into my ear. Use your fingers to venture into regions that daylight never sees—not to hover over my heart to feel my pulse. And keep your eyes closed unless they're alive with only passion. Don't use them to stare deep into mine, trying to make sense of the madness you'll find there.
"So, like, why did we stop talking?" I was recently asked this question by a guy I talked to over the summer. This wasn't the first time I'd been asked this, either. In fact, I even ask myself this question from time to time — usually when my independence starts to feel a lot like loneliness.