brittanyguyer reblogged
So you just found the sweatshirt she used to wear, and you swear you can hear her laughter down the hall. Your fingers trace the slightly worn sleeve. You remember the first time she ever wore it. Somehow, seeing her in it made her look prettier. She didn’t have makeup on or fancy clothes. She was just herself.
Now looking at it, tattered and worn, makes you feel sick. It smells like her. You can’t believe it still smells like her, and all you can think is how you ruined it. You let her go because you thought there was better out there. Someone who didn’t nag as much. Someone who wasn’t as clingy or maybe someone who could love you more deeply.
But you’re sitting on the bed, holding the sweatshirt between your clammy palms, and you can’t help but realize, she was the one. She was the one, but you ruined it. You thought you could find better and instead got a broken heart and an old sweatshirt. And the worst part is that there’s no one to blame but yourself.
Excerpt from a book I’ll never write (via mymessyink)
