an-open-letter

[an-open-letter]

ok, but the whole skinny genius workaholic aesthetic. being the thin one people are concerned about, too big sweaters/sweatshirts and undereye circles and perfect grades and sure, still self-destructing, but at least being fucking productive about it. (does it really count as burning out if you're not burning bright?)

living off of coffee and energy drinks, skipping lunch to study. forcing yourself through the brain fog, being the thinnest person in your major (unlike the grades you get, it's not a competition, but you still make it one, somewhere in the back of your mind). BMI low, grades high, isn't that how it goes? (or at least how you'd like it to be?) accidentally fasting for a little too long because the book was just that good. living in the library, you and your thermos of shitty instant coffee, bitter on your tongue while you leaf through notes. focusing all that obsession on academics and knowledge and doing good crap rather than spinning circles, feeling so self absorbed, thinking of nothing but food.

being smarter, smart enough that you might actually be able to help the world and do something meaningful rather than trying to just unsuccessfully blot yourself out of existence. still being skinny though. still reaching all those goals you set for yourself, almost unintentionally.

ugh.

[an-open-letter]

[an-open-letter]

It’s not the break up that hurts most. It’s the post trauma that follows it. It is waking up and checking your phone for the message that isn’t there anymore. It’s like starting your life over and you have no idea where to begin.

[an-open-letter]

[an-open-letter]

And it is really sad to think,

how you became my safe place,

while I was just a convenience for you until I no longer was.

[an-open-letter]

[an-open-letter]

You never even said goodbye.

[an-open-letter]

It’s both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply. The good parts are extra good, but the bad parts hurt so bad, you can’t even fathom it.

[an-open-letter]

I've never read something so relatable in my life.

[an-open-letter]

Am I forgettable ?

Do the things that remind me of you remind you of me ?

[an-open-letter]

I don’t hate you for not wanting me.

I hate you for making me believe that you did.

[an-open-letter]

“I’ve been in love with someone that didn’t love me back, and I’ve been loved by someone that I didn’t love back. And I don’t know which is worse: to be broken or to break another soul.”

idktorn

[an-open-letter]

“i am hard to love.

that, i have always known

but you climbed the barbed wire fences that guarded my heart

and said you were here to stay

i believed you;

that was my mistake

i guess i scared you away;

i was too much for you,

or not enough,

or somewhere in between

but regardless,

the ending remains the same

i am here,

with my lonely, wounded heart

and the shattered remains of every empty promise you made.”

-i am hard to love, but you were easy to lose. c.r.

[an-open-letter]

“And if you’ve never felt your soul being torn apart, you’ve never loved anyone with all your heart.”

Unknown

[an-open-letter]

Losing you wasn’t just painful, it was fucking damaging also. It wasn’t me sitting down on a couch surrounded by my friends as we watched movies and ate food to try and forget you. It was me staying up at four in the morning because the thought of you was so fucking strong I couldn’t even close my eyes without seeing your face. It was me swallowing thickly and blinking back tears every time I was in public, the hole in my chest causing my breaths to come out shaky rather than normal. It was me laughing at things for no reason as my stomach turned because the urge of falling apart was getting stronger. It was me crying at random hours during the day and me not wanting to get up out of bed. It wasn’t just me staring blankly at your number, deciding whether or not if I should call you. It was me throwing my phone at the wall and breaking it, because I was drunk again and the thought of you ever changing your information terrified me. It was me deleting our conversations and regretting it because now I couldn’t know where we had went wrong. It fucking hurt, losing you had hurt and I wasn’t ever able to forget that kind of pain.

[an-open-letter]

You knew what you were doing and you knew it would hurt me, but somehow that didn’t stop you..

[an-open-letter]

I already knew from the beginning that you wouldn’t choose me but that didn’t stop me from loving you genuinely because deep down in my heart I silently hoped that in between those late-night talks, those ‘I love you’ and my constant validation of your emotions, you’d finally see me and feel at home. It was nothing but an almost.