letters addressed to the fire

emily papen | in my 20s | lesbian | i share random writing dumps here | reader & writer | artemis enthusiast | boygenius | might dump sexual writing

[emilypapen]

i like to think of people as places

I like to think of people as places.

I was just thinking about how when we spend a lot of time at a place, we know how to move around it by heart. I still know my way through my old school, my childhood house, through my childhood friend’s house that I haven’t seen in years, and through the store I used to go to when I was a kid. And even if I tried, I don’t think I could ever forget. Even if I never step foot in any of these places again, I’d know where to go, and how to move around it and find the things I want.

And isn’t it like that with people, too? I don’t think anyone changes so much that you wouldn’t be able to move inside of them like you used to. I think the essential parts never do. So I wonder, if I could take all the people from my past, and turn them into places, would I know where to go?

I’d like to think yes. I’d like to think that that is one of the things that stays with you, once people are gone, like a map. Are the things that once decorated the walls inside of your body untouched? Have they been replaced, moved, or are they still the same? The same things that made me love you? Will you let me roam around you, and see if I find my way back to your heart? Or will you leave me wondering for the rest of my life, hoping that I'm never lost?

[emilypapen]

i can't stop

i can't stop thinking of you. this never happened before- or at least, it never lasted so long.

i think of you when i wake up. when i pour myself coffee. when i cook. when i read. when i write. when i breathe.

i wonder if you'd let me kiss you. i wonder if that's what you meant with "i like you even better now", or if it was simply a friend's comment. i think of your eyes and how they made me understand why they say eyes are doors to souls.

i think of your delicate hands on mine. i think of how pathetically desperate i am to learn your touch.

fuck- i even wonder about your face during sex.

i wonder how am i going to get through this, because i barely even know you, and i already fell for you.

i don't know if you want to be my friend. i don't know how to flirt with you.

and i think, think, think all the tkme.

i want you so much. so, so much. if i touch myself thinking of you... it feels better than ever.

and i'm scared. because i'm not sure if you think the same.

[emilypapen]

i just don't know if i should listen to my heart and stay right here

or listen to my friends and get the hell out of here

[emilypapen]

someone asked me if i knew you.

i broke down in tears.

i don't know you anymore.

[emilypapen]

it is vulnerable, showing a part of you to a close friend for the first time. and when they receive it with a wide smile and open arms, then you know you did it right.

for once, you did one thing right.

[emilypapen]

it was stupid to try and give my heart to someone else. after all, it can only be yours.

[emilypapen]

she has no idea that the whole time i was stopping myself from laying my head on her shoulder.

she has no idea i still miss her.

she has no idea all i think about is her old house, and bad horror movies, and her dad's pizza, and sleeping on the same bed, and waking up to play volleyball, and her mom, her sisters fighting next door, her pets (i can't believe they're still alive!)

i don't know if i miss her or being a kid. i just know that we both study in the same college. i just know that as we sat by each other all i could think about was laying my head on her shoulder.

one last time, i guess.

but i'm a coward

[emilypapen]

my terminal disease

i loved you. i don't think you still love me (if you ever did) but i know that i still love you, and that is my terminal disease. every thought of you takes my breath away, and if i die today, i will die thinking of you.

and if i die ten years from today, i will die thinking of you.

i'm sorry, i guess.

i hope you still have nice things to say about me. and if you don't, then let my death for you be the only one.

[emilypapen]

i like to think of people as places

I like to think of people as places.

I was just thinking about how when we spend a lot of time at a place, we know how to move around it by heart. I still know my way through my old school, my childhood house, through my childhood friend’s house that I haven’t seen in years, and through the store I used to go to when I was a kid. And even if I tried, I don’t think I could ever forget. Even if I never step foot in any of these places again, I’d know where to go, and how to move around it and find the things I want.

And isn’t it like that with people, too? I don’t think anyone changes so much that you wouldn’t be able to move inside of them like you used to. I think the essential parts never do. So I wonder, if I could take all the people from my past, and turn them into places, would I know where to go?

I’d like to think yes. I’d like to think that that is one of the things that stays with you, once people are gone, like a map. Are the things that once decorated the walls inside of your body untouched? Have they been replaced, moved, or are they still the same? The same things that made me love you? Will you let me roam around you, and see if I find my way back to your heart? Or will you leave me wondering for the rest of my life, hoping that I'm never lost?

[emilypapen]

you used to love me

you used to love me because i was just so cool, you told me one of our nights in between whispers and hushed laughs. you used to love me because i was a wild, free soul. you used to love me because i wanted to set the world on fire and let us watch it.

so when we meet again i act that way again. i don't let you see i have never been that. i don't let you see that with your parting, you took that part of me with you.

i don't let you see that i'm dead. because you used to love me. and i don't think anyone else ever dared to

[emilypapen]

you tell me,

you tell me you will never let any man love you. you say it proudly, with a smile. you tell me feminism taught you that and i taught you feminism.

you tell me you're better off alone, as if being loved by a man is the only option.

but i am no man.

you tell me you will never let any man love you.

but i am no man.

[emilypapen]

I CAN MOVE THROUGH OUR FLAMES BETTER THAN I CAN MOVE ANYWHERE ELSE

[emilypapen]

I have never been religious but, God, I kind of want to be now; because if loving you would get me to Hell, it sounds like a beautiful sacrifice to make.

(It shouldn't. But I'm willing to bring myself to shambles for you.)

[emilypapen]

the way she moved was salvation

[emilypapen]

i hope you have nice things to say about me to the love of your life.

i hope someday they ask you about your past lovers and you tell them of the girl that wanted to set the world on fire.

i hope a smile draws on your face when you think of the girl that looked so sweet you could eat her (that's what you told me, once). and then you'll shake your head and chuckle, your hair falling over your face as memories fill your head.

they will look at you and urge to keep telling them. who was this girl? you will get out your phone and show them a photo of me you kept after all these years: i had my hair long and blonde, and there was happiness in my eyes where now there is sadness. you'll show them and say that i loved too hard.

you'll tell them about the girl that loved too hard, the girl that tried too hard, the girl you so desesperately wanted to see succeed, and the girl who never did. you will tell them, hopefully, how every time you turn on the TV, you're secretly hoping to see her. you're not in love with her, no, i don't think you ever were, not like she was in love with you, but there is something about her that makes her impossible not to love.

the love of your life will stare at my picture and start to love me too, because you told them about the time i almost killed a man that was mean to you, and you tell them how i always stopped and talked to every cat and dog we encountered and their eyes will shine.

and then curious, or maybe confused, they will ask you why you left me.

and i hope that despite the truth, you have nice things to say. i hope you say we weren't meant to each other, even if we tried. i hope you say i tried, even if it's a lie. i hope you say it was for the better, even if it wasn't. i hope you say i deserved better, even if i didn't.

i still have nice things to say about you. i think about them constantly: the way you held me; the way you kissed me; the way you talked to me and about me, as if i were a goddess, as if i were beautiful; the way you laughed, how your eyes disappeared and the way it was so loud all your neighbors could hear; God, the way you made love to me, i swear i will never be that close to heaven; the way you believed... you believed so much, and i'm so out of hope...

i dream of you.

i miss you.

i loved you. i don't think you still love me (if you ever did) but i know that i still love you, and that is my terminal disease. every thought of you takes my breath away, and if i die today, i will die thinking of you.

and if i die ten years from now, i will die thinking of you.

i'm sorry, i guess.

i hope you still have nice things to say about me. and if you don't, then let my death for you be the only one.