literature

In our story I am the bad guy. And I know real life isn’t so black and white, but hear me out.

In our story I am the one who runs away with your heart and doesn’t look back. I am always running and you are always chasing. Maybe that’s what little thrill I can get out of life.

You knock on the door to my heart and I shut you out with a silence you don’t understand. Through the walls you can hear me sobbing violently but I keep telling you to go away and it drives you insane.

Yesterday I said I loved you with my downcast eyes. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say those words without feeling ill. And you held me against your chest and whispered ‘it’s okay,’ and I felt like such a disappointment.

I know you think I don’t trust you and maybe it’s true. My mind says, keep a bit of yourself back so when he leaves you won’t be lost forever. But maybe it doesn’t matter what I’ve told you because I am a pathological liar. In reality I think I’ve given you everything and that shakes me to the core.

Baby in our story you are the one who moves on and finds a girl who doesn’t write her thoughts into paper instead of admitting to having them. And in our story I am the bad guy. Please tell me that doesn’t make me a bad person.

—  S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #157  // I am not the girl you thought I was. I’m not even the girl I thought I was.