lizzie

I'm just a simple girl in a endless loop of untying these knots of tangled thoughts.

[coffeee-flavored-tears]

dear ---,

I don’t know how to tell you this but I’m in love with you. 

And I may not know you that well, but I do. 

I may not know your family, or the things you liked to do as a kid, but I know that whenever you’re sad you lean on the sink and duck your head and only talk to the person you’re sad about. I may not know why but I know that you do. And I know that you always smile at me whenever I ask you what’s wrong and how I can cheer you up. 

I know that you don’t prefer dark soda, but you’ll drink it without complaint. 

I know that this may be where you live but it’s not your home and you’ll never see it as such. 

I know that your brother is the closest thing you’ve ever had to family and his opinion comes before anyone else’s. Because he’s the one that’s there for you whenever no one else is. And I think that’s important because I’ve never had someone like that. 

Everyone is telling me that I’m not in love with you, but the idea of you. But that’s not true. 

Because honest to god I hate the idea of you. I hate the fact that you’ve never called me pretty because words of affirmation aren’t your love language, unlike me. 

I hate the fact that you suck at texting and holding up a conversation, so we go for days with only two messages. 

I absolutely despise the idea of you. 

Because you make my heart melt, and it’s safer encased in ice. 

But I’m not getting over your eyes sparkling down at me anytime soon. 

Or the way that you hug me like it’ll be the last time and you don’t want to forget the way I feel in your arms. 

Or how you moved me to your chest while I was sleeping because I started shivering and you didn’t want me to be cold. 

I love you waddles. 

It’s going to be a long time before I’m able to tell you that, so I’m going to keep telling you to please be safe, and text me when you get home, and check if you ate because you’re forgetful and I need you to be healthy. 

And maybe one day you’ll start doing the same for me. 

Love always, 

Lizzie

[blossomfully]

“I was silent, not knowing what your silence meant. My silence meant: I miss you so desperately I can’t sleep. I am writing a hundred poems a day and none of them are palatable and all of them are variations of why won’t you talk to me?”

Sue Zhao // Nothing but Strawberries

[coffeee-flavored-tears]

To my little soldier,

I miss you. All the time. But it’s not the big gestures that I miss. No, not that. It’s the simple things that I never thought of appreciating. I miss the way you’d watch every video or picture I’d send you and provide appropriate commentary instead of a bland “oh okay” or “lol.” I miss the how anytime we took selfies you were always smiling at me in the first one, as though I was all you wanted you wanted to stare at. 

It’s those little moments of healthiness that get me every time someone mentions how toxic you were for me. You were never my oxygen- you were my heroine. 

You were a cake while I was on a diet. You were smoke entering my tattered lungs after I promised myself I would quit but god it just feels so good. 

And how could anything that feels so good possibly be bad?

I miss being able to tell you my every thought with the simple stroke of a pen. 

I never thought the connection we built could be broken by something as simple as 978.9 miles. 

But one good thing has come out of this despair

I’m learning to love myself in ways I never knew were possible. You taught me that by not appreciating the small things I did for you whenever you didn’t do a single thing for me. 

I never even got a thank you for the support, or the comfort whenever you had bad dreams. Instead you moved onto her. Her of all people, and I didn’t even get the decency of a warning. 

I’m realizing I’m giving you to much credit because you were in fact my heroine. 

And as addicts do, I was making up reasons for why you were good for me, and ignoring the negative side effects. 

But now it’s time to let you go

Because now I don’t need the heroine to feel alive.

Love Always, 

Lizzie

[coffeee-flavored-tears]

Dear --,

I think I’m finally moving on. My world now turns on its own instead of pivoting around you for the first time in four years. And I’m happy with that. 

It’s a bizarre thing falling in love with someone after doing nothing but reusing exes for centuries. 

I have become completely enamored by every aspect of his existence. But not because I need him, because I want to. I’d rather the breath from his lips than the purest oxygen in the world. I would rather freeze in his arms than be engulfed by anyone else. And that may sound crazy-

but maybe I’m just that crazy for him. 

It’s weird. Learning to love someone else as much as I love myself. 

But for him, I think I’m okay with learning a lesson or two. Because for the first time in six months I’m okay. I’m happy. I’m alive. 

And what could possibly be wrong with that?

Am I in love with him? 

No. 

Am I falling fast? Absolutely. 

Because I know without a doubt in my mind he’s going to be the one catching me. 

Honestly, I’m not falling in love, I’m jumping off the cliff with a smile on my face because for the first time in six months, I’m okay. 

Love Always, 

Lizzie. 

[coffeee-flavored-tears]

Dear ---,

I met a boy. God that sounds so cliche. That’s how every heartbreak song starts, “I met a boy.” But he’s different. Different from any guy I’ve ever met. He took every once of my southern sass and threw it back at me with a lemon for a garnish. It took me by surprise to say the least, but not in a bad way. 

I was curious, you see, so I took our relationship from more of a friendship to a “flirtationship” of sorts. I punched his shoulder, and he tickled my waist. As crushes go we were the perfect pair. 

But nothing serious of course. 

Just some workplace fun. 

Until one day I turn my head and he’s already looking my way. And for the first time I was lost in his eyes. It took everything in me to not walk up to him and kiss him.

I feel like I know him from a past life. Like we were seperated from birth, if that makes sense at all. Even I don’t know his middle name. He can make me laugh like no other. And always cheers me up when I’m in a bad mood. And whenever we talk about dating it’s always “when” never a single “if.” 

I don’t think he’s going to break my heart.

Wow, that’s a weird thought. 

Do I love him? No. 

For the first time in my entire life, I’m taking things slow. Slowly allowing myself to fall in love with every aspect of him and slowly building our future together, because honestly, it’s going to be a great one. 

Love Always,

Lizzie.

[coffeee-flavored-tears]

My mind is a sanctuary.

With rusted cabinets that may never be opened.

With hardwoods floors that freeze my timid feet whenever I dare take a step.

And tattered wallpaper that makes me long to change the scenery.

But then came you.

Lovely, beautiful you.

You caused a fire in my mind that brought warmth to even the smallest corners of the terrible place it once was.

But then you left and now there are two words coating every inch of my beloved sanctuary

Come back.