#is this unintentionally kind of a subtweet at another post i saw on here

[clowningcrows]

sorry this is the ONLY discourse ill allow myself to participate in post finale of agatha all along (or i fear i will lose my mind entirely), but DAMN some people out here rn after the finale being like “i’m sorry you didn’t get the agathario smut you wanted” BITCH!!!! I WASNT ASKING FOR THEM TO FUCK ON SCREEN!!!! i didn’t even need them to get together or even get any semblance of a happy ending!!! i didn’t expect a happy ending in the least tbh!!!!! but you know what i did expect? a final ending. a wrap up. a satisfying and complete finale. a conclusion that actually answers any one of my remaining questions or gave us more context for scenes that we’ve been missing context on the entire time. and i’m sorry but this finale didn’t do that at all. and it’s obviously not bury your gays but jesus christ it wasn’t a good conclusion either. at best it’s honestly a cheap set up for a season two or further content with billy that will prob include bits and pieces of agatha

[endlessly-elizabeth]

I know it’s going to happen. I can feel it coming. Fuck, it might even be tonight.

I need somewhere that I can pour my heart out. A place that’s safe, a place without judgment. I’m hoping that’s here, and I’m hoping you don’t find this. Or maybe I want you to and that’s why I’m putting it on here, I don’t know.

Part of me really hates you, or maybe I just hate myself for letting you have such a hold on me. I don’t recall ever letting anyone make me feel so fucking low before, and I’m just mad. I am so fucking mad. I was doing better! I was working out, eating healthier, distracting myself with outings with friends, and avoiding places I thought I might run into you. I gave up trivia, I got kicked out of a friend group (although, you had nothing to do with that), and I tried to lay low. I saw you at a concert, and knowing drunk me, I tried to have a heart-to-heart with you. I remember feeling so invigorated that night-- excited by the possibility of running into you, but also being perfectly content listening to the music and celebrating the summer nights that were ahead of me.

Drunk me wanted to talk. Drunk me always wants to talk.(I can’t tell if I like that or hate that about myself). We talked about our friendship, we talked about our feelings, and we talked about your ex. Nothing got solved per say, but I felt the slightest bit of closure that night. We talked as openly as we could with our friends a couple feet away and a thousand people singing along to the melodies that engulfed us. I felt alive. I felt happy seeing you again, even if I knew it wouldn’t last. You gave me a ride and I texted you the next day asking to meet, to hopefully tie loose strings and put the situation behind us. We didn’t meet up and I was okay. I didn’t check my phone hoping to hear from you or put my life on pause. I just kept being me and hoped that, in time, I’d be able to finally put us to rest...if there even was an “us.”

But then you started talking to me in 140 character or less phrases that only I would understand. It started with a song lyric, and once I got confirmation from Google that it was the exact same song that popped to mind when I typed it into the search engine, my heart started racing. Why was he tweeting that song? Was it a coincidence? Is he really subtweeting me right now? I couldn’t stop thinking about it-- I wanted to know more. I posted a picture of me and my puppy (because, seriously, who could resist her little face), and you did exactly what I thought you would. You liked it. The tweets went silent for a day or two until you did it again. And again.

I couldn’t take the mind games. I found myself refreshing my twitter app just to see if you had gone on and left any additional messages for me, and it became an obsession. I felt so close, yet so very far from you...and I knew that it would only be a matter of time before we bridged the gap and actually ran into eachother. Luckily (or maybe unluckily?), I didn’t have to wait long at all. I heard the doorbell go off in my store and immediately walked up to see if that was a new customer, or if one had just left, and that’s when I saw it. Something big and something very blue caught my eye--your Jeep. I had to do a double-take, but I recognized the bumper sticker of the crab on the side. My heart began racing and I felt so exhilarated. Were we about to run into eachother? Was it a coincidence? I didn’t know, but every nerve ending in my body began tingling. I fluffed a couple pillows, fixed a couple floral stems, touched up the table tops and then I saw you. Handsome you, walking to your car with a Panera smoothie in hand. (At this point in time, I’m remembering how just a couple months prior, strawberry banana smoothies from Panera used to be our thing, and this was your second trip there in two days). You stalled by your car and I waved, hoping you’d see me and half-hoping that we wouldn’t cross paths. You must not have seen me because you pulled out of your parking spot and then drove slowly past the front of my store. I waved again, and I knew you saw. I started shaking and walked away from the window only to walk back 5 seconds later to see if you continued driving away. But nope, you turned around and i immediately busied myself with some remedial task as far away from the door as possible. Then I heard it. The doorbell. 

I walked up and saw you and told myself that it was now or never. After a couple second pep talk in my head, I finally said hi and asked what brought you in, even though I already knew your answer. We played cat and mouse during the last twenty minutes of my shift, smiling, flirting, asking questions, walking away, and creating a sense of wonder. Wondering what the hell was going on.

We sat outside of Panera for hours and talked, and talked, and talked. It’s almost like we couldn’t force ourselves to go in separate directions--in that moment, it was only me and you, us, and our usual vulnerable conversation. You told me everything you thought I’d want to hear-- that you missed me, that you couldn’t stop thinking about me, that you were sorry. You were sorry for talking to your ex again and for pushing me away. That you started tweeting about me as a way of reaching out without having any expectations. You told me that your feelings over the past couple of months weren’t fabricated and that they were very much real and you still had them--you told me that even though we stopped talking, you never emotionally let me go. I melted inside. I was an absolute puddle of emotion--of pure joy, relief, and happiness. I wanted to bask in that moment for as long as I could, and maybe that’s why I couldn’t tear myself away from you even though part of my mind was saying “red flag, red flag!” The real kicker is the last message you left for me. I’m getting emotional just thinking about it again... You told me that, in the weeks we hadn’t been talking, that you found it much more impossible to get over me in comparison to her. And that’s when I knew I was in trouble. All of the progress I had made just turned to shit and I was wrapped around your finger again.

We opened up so much that night, and talked about so many different things. One conversation we’ve always been able to talk about and relate to so well for eachother are our insecurities. We talked about bettering ourselves and vowed to find things that make us happy. We talked about how much we still care for one another, but I never knew what the point of that conversation was. Were we having it as a sense of closure? Were we finally putting our back and forth drama over the last three years to bed? Were we finally going to take the plunge and see if we could give a relationship a real shot? Those questions haunted me on my drive home and haunted me as I tried to fall asleep that night. Luckily, I had a roadtrip the next day to distract myself from everything.

And then we saw eachother again. And you seemed so sure of your feelings for me and displayed your affection in front of your friends, which hadn’t always been the easiest for you. I tried to come across as distant and detached, but you can read through me, just like I can read through you. I called it right then and there, saying your feelings would change and you’d be acting differently in about a week’s time. If you’re reading this, you probably know what my next words are going to be: I know you like the back of my hand. I called that shit. Within a couple days of you reaching out to me and whispering sweet nothings to me, like how you feel so blessed to be able to say you know the real me, or that you want us to help eachother through our insecurities, you dropped me like a hot potato. You became cold and distant. Was it because we talked about your ex? Because, listen here, friend... you don’t get to be mad at me about that. You literally created the situation for yourself by rotating between the two of us, so I think it’s natural that she is a sensitive subject for me. You don’t get to be mad at me for bringing that up. You made your bed, it’s time you lie in it. Did you get too wrapped up in the idea of me, rather than the actual me? Are you scared? I don’t fucking know. That’s the one thing I can never fully understand about you-- as much as I know you inside and out, I can never understand how your feelings for people you supposedly care so much for (ie, me and your ex), can be flipped like a switch. You don’t get to pick and choose when you come into someone’s life, or do it only at your own convenience. We are people. We have feelings, and you’re manipulating the situation to serve yourself. And I’m not okay with that.

You want to know what my biggest problem is? Internalizing everything. Instead of recognizing that you let your insecurities run your life and you project them onto others, I take it to all be my fault. I tell myself I must not be pretty enough, smart enough, easy going enough to keep you around. Or I constantly worry that I’ve done something to unintentionally push you away. I beat myself up over it for days and make myself feel like shit. I went for a nighttime drive tonight (you know how much I love those, especially with you), and then I just felt so sad. Sad because I don’t get the same enjoyment I once did from my drives, mainly because we have so many memories attached to them. Kind of like how you told me you can never look at your Jeep the same way again, because you know how much I love it and you’re forced to remember all of the times we shared in there. I listened to this one song that perfectly described how I’ve been feeling the past couple days and I almost lost it. Remember that time I cried in front of you outside of the bar? Except you said it was more of my soul crying than actual tears coming out of my eyes. I think I do that a lot. I think my soul has been crying for days now, and one day I’m eventually going to break down and let it all out. I just hope you’re not there to see it. I don’t want you to get the satisfaction out of seeing me so weak.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know whether we should call it now and just accept our defeat, knowing we can never make it work if we’ve (unofficially) tried so many times. I don’t know if I should text you and ask what happened to make you act so distant, or if I should just let it go and hope that we both find our way in life without one another. I have to admit, typing that just now broke my heart a little. I can remember life before you, but now I can’t imagine life without you. And that’s about as intimate as I’m going to get right now. I can’t take any more vulnerability and emotional pain tonight. Maybe the point of this was for you to read it--to give you a little inside access into my messy, complicated mind. Or to let my guard down a little, since you said the best word to describe me is “guarded.” (Maybe I’m just guarded around you, because I’m anxiously waiting for the next falling out). I hope your night has been better than mine, because all I feel right now is sadness and confusion, and maybe by typing this, I’ll let just enough of the darkness go to let a little bit of light back in.