There was a time when I was your first choice and you were mine. You willingly climbed into my bed and I climbed into yours. Our breathing synced and our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. Your kisses were mine to receive and our mouths loved nothing more than the taste of each other. You touched me in ways other boys had, but somehow it was different with you because you were my friend first and I cared about you more than the other boys. But then one night as we laid there you told me I was good to have at night and good to have as a friend, but nothing more. That hurt. And as I laid there at night contemplating those words I realized we weren’t friends. If we were friends you wouldn’t have kissed me. If we were friends you wouldn’t have watched me fall and continued to lay with me at night and whisper sweet nothings into my mouth. When I accepted that, I accepted the fact we couldn’t keep doing this anymore because we were friends with benefits, but without the friends part, and without that part there were no real benefits, I was just hurting me. So I stopped because at the end of the day I come first. But then our late night conversations stopped. Our lunch dates and hours watching documentaries were over. Gone were the nights of tickling you and then kissing you senseless. We no longer talked about our past, our presents, or our futures. We weren’t friends. I tried to mend our friendship, but you pushed away because what was the point? I was the girl there to be a temporary fix for your gaping loneliness. I was mad. I was hurt. He was there. Your best friend. The one you had been best friends with since you were 6 called me over one night and yes maybe we were both drunk, but he reminded me that I deserved more than you. He kissed me with more passion than you ever did. His touch burned my skin more than yours. His words made my stomach flip and my cheeks flush and you never liked to compliment me. So sorry if that upset you but I’m alone in a big universe of hurt and I still don’t understand why it’s my fault that you used me and I needed someone to remind me I was worth something. And he kissed me. I may have let him but he kissed me first and he touched me first and he was the one who kept whispering that I deserve more. So maybe it hurts knowing I hit back that hard, but I was in pain and when I’m in pain I’m a hurricane. No one is safe from damage and at the end of the day we will all be left in ruins. But it’s okay. Because we will all rebuild and one day you will look back and understand that the hurricane began not when we ended or when we kissed, but when we met eyes. Because sometimes life does this crazy thing where we’re thrown into situations that couldn’t have been avoided. We were meant to become friends. We were meant to kiss. We were meant to be intimate. You were meant to hurt me. I was meant to hurt you. Even if we met 5 years ago or 5 years in the future it would have happened. I believe if you didn’t kiss me that hot August night, you would have on a cold December morning or maybe a chilly April afternoon. We were destined to ache and love and hate and happen.
And maybe I have to remind myself every time I see you that I can’t say hi to you anymore and maybe I still need to move on, but it’s okay, you we’re just a page, in a short chapter, of my long story. (via helovedmenever)