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.
I miss you. I trust you. Ask me anything, and I won’t ever hesitate to tell you, I will give myself entirely. You already have me, I just don’t know what parts you want to see. My vulnerabilities are on display for you, point me out to anything and I can tell you its story.
I feel that more guarded than I initially thought, and I don’t want to be. Especially not for you.
Im so shy Ive lost sight of what to say.
I miss being with you, talking to you, and breathing you in.
You are all I think and feel, every minute of each day, and that alone makes me feel as if you’re with me. You’re in every thing I see, every advertisement, every ray of sunshine, every song is about you. In every feeling that arises out of my day, there is always an immediate urge to want to share it with you. A well-formed sentence, how I almost slipped on the snow this morning and rambunctiously laughed it off to myself, a cloud I liked. I imagine you with me, living each moment. I guess what I’m really trying to say, is that I really miss you and I hope to be in your arms again.
—  A
I manage.
I get by.
I think this is normal, but it’s not.
It’s not normal to cry yourself to sleep every night, to be this tired even though you slept well, to somedays eat everything you can and some days eat nothing at all, to not se a future, to be sad all the time. This is not normal but i manage i get by, for now at least.