I like to pretend that I would slam the door in your face if I found you on my doorstep five years from now. I like to think that, given what happened, I’d tell you to get lost and never call me again. If you’d ask why, I’d list all the things you’d ever done to me, all the times you’d broken my heart and made me feel like being myself wasn’t enough. I like to pretend I’d recognise you for the waste of time and tears you were. That you still are.
But there is that small part of me that is afraid. That small part of me that would hold open the door for you and invite you in, the part that would offer you a cup of coffee and remember that you like it with too much sugar. The part of me that still craves your presence on some days and misses the way you brushed my hair from my forehead or
how you laughed too loud or swore too much or let me call you in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep.
There is one thing I’m sure of, though. I hope you never show up on my doorstep again because God, I have no idea what I would do.
“You never loved me anyways.” She whispered. I looked at the woman in front of me. Her long dark hair, she cut it all off. She looked more mature, confident, but yet so fragile when she saw me. I wanted to protect her from all the harm, danger and pain. I wanted to wipe away the tears she wasted on me.
“Don’t look for me anymore.” Lie. When she noticed me, I felt my world stopped spinning. The way her brown eyes always sparkled. I remembered how she hated them because she was jealous of mine. Though she will never see it the way I do. Her eyes hid a story, the only story I want to read for the rest of my life. Only one look at her and all my pain vanished away.
“You need to find someone else.” Lie. I want you to fight for me, fight for my demons, to get me out of here. Fight for me like you always used to do. I want you to win me. I know loving me was the hardest yet easiest thing she has ever done. She looked at me, she was trying to read my eyes. That was her magic, she never believed my words and looked for the truth in my eyes. Her eyes brought such warmth with her, every time I looked at her, I knew I was home.
“There is no hope left for us.“
“Lie.” She whispered.
Excerpt from a book I will never write #1193 // @writtenbyjana on Instagram
Imagine you come home from shopping at the bookstore to find Loki in his jotun form, laying on your shared bed, tears rolling down his face, the song wasted by Carrie Underwood playing on your iPod. He was thumbing through your iPod out of curiosity after he discovered you had left it at home and started crying when he heard the song, which reminded him of his troubled past. You hug him, wiping the tears from his cheeks despite his chilled skin, and kiss his forehead, and snuggle up to him, whispering positive things in his ear until he calms down and his colour turns back to normal.
You know what the cruelest thing about Hamilton is? It’s when Eliza sings I stop wasting time on tears/ I live another fifty years and you think, “OK, wipe your nose and stop wasting time on tears you dummy. She’s gonna sing something uplifting now,” and sure enough, she interviews soldiers, she and Angelica tell his story, when she needed Angelica most, she was there. God gives her more time, and you’re thinking, “OK, OK, I might be able to get my shit together now.” She raises funds for the Washington Monument, speaks out against slavery, and you’re like, “Get ‘em Eliza! I’m gonna survive this album after all.” But then, you find out she’s proudest of [angel voices singing] the orphanage and BOOM go the floodgates. There is no coming back.
I wish you friends who are kind before they are righteous, who are loving before they are certain. I wish you a lover with a questioning mind and a steady heart, one who has time for tears as well as laughter— because life is both.
But you know that.
For the rest of your life, for every vivid and unremarkable day, I hope you will cry with joy as much as you weep with grief. I hope that even if you do not, even if your sorrows outweigh your loves all the days of your life, you will still consider not one of those tears a waste.
I saw you today in the Walmart parking lot, my sister pointed out your car as we were passing by. As I turned my head to look I made contact with your eyes. I wish I could say I was fine after, but I wasn’t. My heart started to beat faster and my stomach churned. I remembered all the terrible things you said the last time we spoke and I thought of all those years of friendship I wasted. I almost lost it right there, sitting in the passenger seat of my mom’s Scion. Then my mom told me that you weren’t worth the tears and usually I hate the fact that she isn’t more sympathetic, but I realized she was right. You don’t deserve my tears. I waste too many on people who don’t give a damn about me. One day you will realize that I was worth fighting for, but that day will be too late.