it was so fucking worth it
i will carry all the good you taught me forth in my life. i will be the person you see in me, because that makes me better. i will keep climbing that sand dune.
when you see me at the top, smile for me. i’m smiling for you.
"The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot" by Brand New
Call me a safe bet, I’m betting I’m not
It’s a reverse of that night in April. In April, when you first told me you loved me, I didn’t know that you did. When you released those words into the air, something changed between us.
We put them back today. We put things back. We can’t say it anymore.
But I still know. I know, I know, I know.
I’ll hold onto it. Thank you for loving me. I love you too.
don’t forget me. please don’t forget me. i won’t ever forget you, i won’t forget the way you made me feel, i won’t forget how i loved you or how you loved me. i won’t forget any of it.
one day the wounds won’t be so raw, but i am so, so sad today, and i miss you so, so much, and when i think about the way memories fade, i feel the panic clench in my chest.
don’t forget don’t forget don’t forget
little things remind me of you. i carry them around with me. i keep wishing i’d taken more pictures, but that’s just me trying to extend what we had into forever.
rage, rage, against the dying of the light
My mind forgets to remind me
You’re a bad idea
You sang that line right at me as we drove into New York that Saturday, the day things began to unravel.
These songs will always remind me of you though, enthusiastically dancing along. No one ever danced as terribly and enthusiastically as you did.
Saw him today for multiple events. We spent a few hours alternately avoiding each others’ eyes and locking glances across the table. I could tell we were both holding back, jokes tugging at our lips.
We still remember how to laugh together, even when we’re not speaking.
Afterwards, when we gathered around to thank the judge for coming to speak, we stood a little too close, leaning into each other because it used to be natural. I’d learned how to adjust my balance around him, learned how to lean into him, learned how to let him curve his body around me.
When we said goodbye, eyes still not able to meet, I didn’t look back.
That was too hopeful, the idea that I would get some sleep. I stayed up tonight just thinking. Reading old chats and texts, looking at pictures and the bits and pieces of our relationship I have left to hold on to. I think I can trace how things began to unravel, but maybe that’s just hindsight being 20-20.
I wrote you a letter. Everything I write, whether I give it to you or not, is a love letter. It’s our story. I guess I finally know how it ends: soft and sweet and sad. If my story before was one of being restless, of watching white curtains move in the glow of the streetlight and looking at him across the bed and realizing what I had to do, this one is the way you looked that morning, heartbroken already, the way you couldn’t meet my eyes, the way we held each other and cried. The way I couldn’t make myself leave your apartment, our place, behind. The way I kept coming back to your bed, asking you to hold me one more time. The end was like that. We both knew it was coming, I just didn’t know how to make myself walk out the door.
Everything lately is a barrage of words, me trying to make sense of things. I feel like I’ve talked myself to death about it all but there’s still so much more to say. There was a lot I still wanted to do with you. Everything was a race against time, for me, to fit as much as I could in.
What was your white-curtain moment, I wonder? When did you know?
When I saw you in the hallway, I cupped your cheek and said, “Don’t be so sad,” and walked away before you could see my face crumple with tears. I love the way your cheek fits perfectly in my hand. It’s mine, that bit of tenderness. Don’t let someone else touch you in the exact same way. Give me these little things to hold on to: the feel of your cheek, that laugh that jolts my heart, the way you used to kiss the top of my head.
When I get over you, someone else will have my love but this part of my heart is yours always. That’s all the forever we get.
the jagged pieces of my heart don’t catch as sharply as they did before. looking at pictures brings on a low, dull ache, a longing for what we had, but it doesn’t twist and hurt and savage the way it did before.
it’s too soon to call it, but i think we’re gonna be okay.
peaceful tonight. maybe i’ll get some sleep.