stop being that kind of nice to me just to fuck me. i’m tired of hoping that you could become a friend when in reality you’ll just disappear the next morning and never text or call again.
stop asking me about my dreams and my goals. my favorit music and my taste in art. my childhood memories and the best food i ate. my family and friends in my hometown. my fears and the nightmares that keep me up at night.
stop to act shocked when i tell you how many i’ve never seen again and that i know that you’ll do the same.
stop it. please.
stop ruining me when i already told you, how hard this is for me.
stop doing this with other peoples lifes. it’s not fair.
if you don’t want to see me again - fine. just say it. but stop this shit.
we didn’t really broke up, did we? we just didn’t talk anymore. it has been nearly half a year since the last time it felt like this. i still have more than 300photos of you on my phone. and one beside my bed. i’m not sure if i can handle the empty space you left in my life.
but i can’t handle your way to live, to nearly hate everything around you. to love a boy who will never be able to love you as much and passionated as i did.
i’m just so sorry.
it was my biggest wish to get my next tattoo from you. not really from you, but that you write it for me. i love the way it looks. and it hurts so much when i think about it.
i can even see what i’m doing because i started to cry again.
i pretended that i don’t care, but i do. you left a lot in my life. i know exactly how you smell, i can draw your face blind, i know how you sound and look when you laugh or cry or sleep. how you’re words fade when you’re drunk. how you’re dancing with your arms wide open. which tea you like and which cigarettes you smoke. i know you favorit shops and blogs. the setting of your camera. how you walk. which makeup you use.
i’m sorry. i hope you’re fine. i just miss you so much.