Letters To The Girl I Lost @letterstoprincesskgr - Tumblr Blog

7/13/17

What do I you say to the girl who manages to steal the air clean out of your lungs yet somehow takes every word, never the right ones but every one? What do you say to the girl whose love was a luxury you believed yourself unable to afford. A girl who could seduce the whole room cannot understand another who lives life like a knife to wrists. A girl who could deduce the whole room but picked the one self declared suicide. What do you say to the girl who made you a creature tactile and flexible?

#this is so incoherent I have to call it poetry #poetry

6/27/17

I was up at 2:00 am again thinking about you, at this point I've resigned to the fact that your absence takes my sleep the same way it did when you were here. Once again, I forgot almost all of what I wanted to write. Usually when people leave me, it's a sharp knife that leaves a lingering scar. I wish I could have that kind of pain relief now; because this pain is like some kind of poisonous candy. Like those gobstoppers, you know? The ones that the longer you keep on your mouth, they just turn new color after color. Everyday is like a new flavor or memory I'm forced to relive and suffer through. All the while, you get the occasional thought to wave away and live happily. I'd say Insert: 6/29/17 I gave up

#we actually hesitantly returned to speaking terms on 6/29/17 #documentation

6/26/17 (Continuation)

You know, I always think of what I'm going to say in these, then forget and write in immaturely simplistic language I used to be better than. Anyway, I'm making plans for the future now. I intend on ping back to our camp in August. At camp I will simply hand you a note saying something along the lines of "I don't speak to you, you don't speak to me; if anyone asks, I've never met you before." I've spent hours fantasizing (not sexually, idiot) about the arguments we could have at camp, all the sharp one liners we could throw at the other. I know realistically we will not say a word to the other anyway. And if all goes as planned, you will feel like you won't know me by the summer anyway. I'll have bright blue hair, a new wardrobe, an alternative voice, and hopefully (but I'm not very confident in this) a much better body. I'm even moving houses, and transferring schools, but that's not strictly relevant to this. You know, a fantasizing part of the back of my brain fantasizes about giving you this book someday, but I very obviously never will. I don't need to give you a part of my heart to laugh at.

#documentation #and quite immaturely at that

6/26/17

I'm in Starbucks writing about you. I've become that person, the one who intentionally writes at Starbucks. What have you done to me? You know, I wound up almost failing out of school. I failed two regents, two classes, at least one final. I think you've truly wrecked me in more ways than one. I've mostly passed the point of overwhelming, all-consuming pain. Now, my body's muscle memory is suffering your loss. Something happens and my first instinct is to tell you, and like the bearer of bad news I must tell my body that telling you is no longer a viable option. "Why?" my body seems to ask, and all I can respond to it with is "We just don't any longer." I feel like a child playing as an adult here. The drama, the sex, my occasional vodka indulgence on a Tuesday afternoon. A little girl playing dollhouse with her broken life? Heart? (Same affect eitherways). My life was so different before I met you. No drama, no kisses, just my head turned toward the future, a child unknowing.

#regents are important standardized tests #documentation

6/22/17

You know what the difference between goodbyes is between you and me? When I am hurt, I self destruct. I self implode and destroy myself. When you are hurt, you are out to hurt. Take the beach for example. According to my boyfriend you always suggest my beach to go to. You know, the small one 45 minutes away from your house that's incidentally across the street from mine. The one you choose despite having a handful of other options. Why? Why hurt me more? I know it's intentional, he told me as much. There's a part of me that wants to believe it's because you want to see me, but I know that isn't true. There's an ironic comedy that when we were happy you never wanted to see me. Who knew it would take you hating me to get you to make the effort. Where did I hurt you enough to finally be worth it? There's a cold war between us in your eyes, but I'm holding this flag as high as I can. I'm at the beach, every petite girl wearing a bikini looks like you for a second.

#documentation

6/15/17

It’s times like this a kind of anguished hate makes its way into my feelings for you. You made an Instagram comment last night, most likely about me. “Like a box of chocolates, never know what you’re gonna get. Lost respect for this person but now it’s just awkward and I don’t really care :/ had a reverse glow up” It’s the morning of a regents now and I should be thinking of Stalin, the Cuban Missile Crisis, anything but you. I hate you so much. I told you from day 1, who I was, how I am. How many times did I prophesize the end for you to tell me otherwise? That’s one of the reasons I tried to leave. I knew this would happen. And now look what happened. You’re fine and I’m destroyed. You’re fine and I’m buying medication to kill myself. It doesn’t seem very fair.

#I'd like give a reminder that a good deal of this is documentation and isn't supposed to be artful #also #regents are a very important standardized test #and the Cuban missile crisis is actually word play to a certain degree #because it relates to the obvious social studies test #but it's actually an inside sexual joke with the boyfriend #documentation #also this hurt to read even now

6/14/17

I should've started writing in the darker months when my pain had more art to it. Now I am just in in the space of wondering if i am something new or something hollowed out by you. I will fill this book with my un-artful hurt. You will not care. You do not lose sleep because of me, you lose sleep because of long night calls with her. I have somebody I love too. You think I never called him at night? I've done all of what you have and more, you still steal my sleep. I made my contract (you know the one) the week I met you, it's fitting you're the reason I almost broke it. I've been so close to killing my self (I am pathetic, no wealth or knowledge there). I've gone out and bought bottles from the drugstore instead of lipstick. Enough to cure my "headache" twice over. I obviously never did it. I am pathetic and I love you. I fell asleep (6/15/17, morning)

#another introduction

6/14/17

I could fill this book in a night if it would bring you back. It won't of course, but I'll still try. He thought it was about him but it was you. There a time I had beautiful words for this beautiful book but I do no longer. You stole my words away with you. I cut all my hair off so I wouldn't love anymore, I still do. I burned myself to everything but I still lose you and now I'm scrambling at the ashes not only looking for you but for me. It's obvious I've always loved you more than I love myself, but I do not know if I love you more than I hate myself. Cliches won't bring you back but I'm still trying. He asks me questions, I swear him the truth, I tell him lies. I got a dog to keep my mind off you, it didn't work. You're both pretty and soft and have received my Russian nicknames and she curls into me at night a way you never could but she is a poor substitute for your laughter. Every night at 11:11 I have a new wish. Every night I tell God that I put my life in His hands with the hope He'll ease the pain. So far he hasn't. I wish I could tell you these things, but you don't want to hear them and I don't have the courage to speak again.

#yeah this isn't coherent but it was the beginning

5/28/17

I once told you in all of my youth and sincerity I don't need anyone, but if I needed Someone It would be you Several months sober Living with the shadow of your pretty Ghost I ask myself if I spoke the truth I did not lie, The same air leaves my lungs as did Before My smooth hair falls the same My body continues it's tread But burned into these wood walls Which cradled us both in sleep Is the reality Is these words are skeletal but Not muscle The strong sinewy muscle is the reality That God hear my prayer I need you The tattoos of your touch burn my skin Your thumbprints buried into Bones and flesh These wood walls remind me I would Rather see my kidneys die before you Cheap plastic bottles coated with Chemicals replacing the characters of Your name I wish I could inhale Would you cry? Most likely But never enough for you to need me

#I'm not saying this is good or even coherent but it's honest and what I wrote that night #poetry #that's the whole of the poetry that basically christened the journal

5/27/17 Originally 5/24/17

Нет греха в его руках на моя Прикосновений на мой бёдра, пяжки Вниз мой позвоночник Но переплетённый руки из вы и я? Евангелие

No hay pecado en sus manos en la mía Toca a mis muslos, caderas, por mi espina dorsal ¿Pero las manos entrelazadas de ti y yo? Evangelio

There is no sin in his hands on mine Touches to my thighs, hips, down my spine But the intertwined hands of you and I? Gospel

#these are all the same thing just different languages #not necessarily correct #poetry #maybe?

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