mumbles which are promises
11.06.13 | 11:01 am
sometimes at night i still just want to talk to you and lay everything i'm thinking out on the table. i want to know what you think i should do, i want you to know about my past and why i act the way i do, and i want you to tell me that i'm not worthless no matter who made me feel that way and why.
i wanted you to want to touch me, like how your arm was draped around me sitting on the couch. i wanted you to want to take care of me.
i want to tell you about how i wish i believed in god, and how i wish i could still believe everything happens for a reason and good things happen to good people. but the world doesn't work like that. and not thinking those things makes me feel less whole, like less of a good person. less happy.
i wanted to cook for you and i can't even cook. i wanted you to tell me stories about you as a little kid and as a high schooler, about college before i knew you. god i wish i had known you my senior year, i think for some reason we would have liked each other more then.
i wanted you to think i was smart and fun to talk to above everything else.
i wanted you to love me.
and i look back at our friendship and see the times when you've told me about your father before anyone else, when you've told me stories about you not wanting to learn spanish as a kid, when you've told me that i know most of your secrets.
but it's not the same.
i think i want too much, expect too much from people.
all i have wanted for the past few days is for you to really want to know how i am because it's not great.
i am moving on from this, i know it doesn't sound like it but i really am. but sometimes you share things like slam poetry and i realize i've forgotten how totally multifaceted you are and i remember how perfect and beautiful and thoughtful i think you are and it just sticks to me, and i can't shake it away.