ssweet-defilee-blog reblogged
I’m really sad. Not the type of sad that people get when a relative or their dog dies or when they don’t get accepted to the college of their dreams or whatever else in the world there is to get sad about. Nothing is below me and I am better than no one but this is the type of sad I don’t think anyone ever gets. The kind where waking up makes you want to dig your nails into your skin and instead of carving his name into trees you want to carve it into your thighs. Your arms. Your stomach. When the first letter of his name appears in every word you ever write and his smile doesn’t escape the inside of your eyes when you write down the word “molecule.” His smile doesn’t make you happy anymore, it just makes you cry. My mom comes in my room sometimes and asks me if I’m okay and I yell at her to leave. I can’t help but snap at those around me when all I want to do is be alone. All I ever want to do now is sleep and cry and I don’t want to play or go to school or see sunlight. It’s the kind of sad that makes you think you have cancer, some kind of terminal illness or something because your chest starts hurting all the time and you can’t breathe as well as you could before and your throat closes up when you ask for notes from the boy in class that sits next to you who has his same name. It’s not his fault you’re sad, but he triggers it. Just like the smell of Dentyne Ice or Polo cologne. Just like when you see boys with long hair and dark eyebrows. I bought his cologne last month and sometimes I spray it on my bedspread when I miss him and want to feel like I’m in his arms again. I’m almost out. I miss him a lot. I check our texts from time to time. I sent the last 4 messages. “I miss you.” “I don’t know what I did.” “I miss kissing you and holding your hand while you drive us to your place.” “Why don’t you ever text me back? I miss you so much baby.” He probably found someone else. He probably didn’t like me calling him baby. He’s not my baby anymore. He’s probably hers. He probably kisses her neck now and not mine. They probably hold hands and I bet he touches her thighs too. He used to do that to me. God, I’m so sad.
(via ewcutie)
Source: ewcutie
