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I still remember how it felt the first time we were together. I remember the nerves, the excitement. The way I suddenly felt sixteen again. The way you grabbed me by the hand and we giggled as we ran upstairs to the room. The way my hands were shaking as I started to unbutton your shirt, and the smile in your voice as you said it was okay, you would get it.
The thought of you constantly lingers. You had me at my absolute best. You saw me. You made me feel like the most important woman in every room. Sometimes, I feel like I would kill to have your attention again.
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I have that feeling in the pit of my stomach again.
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I’ll always feel like we could have chosen for things to be different. I wish we were still friends and that I could knit a Santa hat for your baby this Christmas, too.
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“I will never say the things that I want to say to you. I know the damage it would do. I love you more than I hate my loneliness and pain.”
— Henry Rollins, Solipsist
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Suzanne Scanlon, from "Committed: On Meaning and Madwomen," published in 2024
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we were never quite as good as your memory replays / and I don’t owe you no answer when you say “are you okay?”
#ace hardware#there are goodbye letters I have written and others I have not#this is the one I never seem to be able to write
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#this used to be the cutest thing in the world to me#but now it’s been 6 years and we’re running in circles#lover
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Is it insane that sometimes I still imagine what our lives would have been like together?
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There’s a parallel universe where we’re together. We take long car rides and have babies to bring along. Your sister and I are best friends, and you’re best friends with mine. Our moms are old and happy and laughing on your back patio about first grade, walking down the hallway together in blissful silence. I still remember how it feels to sit next to you in 6th grade science and the anxiety in my chest the first time we ever kissed. I could have kissed you forever. We were always young and stupid, forever was never in cards. But I’d still pick up your call at 3 AM. For the rest of my life.
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You kissed me on the forehead before you left. Sometimes it still replays in my mind even though I don’t want it to. Greetings and endings in my front seat. You always touched my mind in ways even better than my body. A language spoken between only you and me, never understood by anyone else. To feel heard, to feel seen, but to have it denied in the end was the worst pain. Like it wasn’t real, like you didn’t feel it, too. It was always fleeting. I never asked for forever. But I tripped and fell when I wasn’t expecting. There was no way it wasn’t going there. You never called it what it was. People want me to hate you, but I can’t. If I could go back in time, I’d do the brave thing.
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Please don’t do to your baby the things your parents did to you, I beg you.
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Surprisingly not as disappointed as I thought I would be.
The pathetic way that I want you to answer when I know I never should have set myself up for the disappointment in the first place
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Somehow, I still think about you all the time. And I miss you, too. Weird the way my love for you never dies. Weird the way I know you feel that too.
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You’re dead asleep but I want to shake you awake because you don’t have enough respect to pick up after yourself even after we just talked about it
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