its whatever man

[noolongerrheree]

Cheez•its suck now btw

[aftertheheartbreaks]

Do you catch little glimpses of me in her?

I find you everywhere, but mostly in him.

The way he says things, looks he gives me, his favorite movies, even certain bands that you both love.

It’s hard to separate it all sometimes, wading through the mental fog reminding myself that you are not him and he is not you.

It’s a little shitty, isn’t it? Finding bits and pieces of an old lover in your present one.

He wears my Kardeshev shirt more often than I’d like, but what can I say to him? How can I explain why it bothers me without causing drama or I’ll feelings?

That shirt brings back more memories than I’d feel comfortable admitting to you, and especially him. I only wear that shirt on rare occasions or days where I just simply n e e d to.

Why does this happen with only you, and the memories of you?

I don’t mind it necessarily, sometimes finding comfort in it but why now? Why with him? Is there something I’m not connecting? Am I searching for reasons to remember you or did I truly find someone else who is in a lot of ways just like you?

Yesterday he told me that he almost calls me by his ex’s name a lot, and I was upset that he even mentioned it but at least I’m not the only one who almost slips up.

It’s shitty, isn’t it?

[aftertheheartbreaks]

It’s still so..

easy? Isn’t it? To talk, to be friendly, to be “friends”?

God I haven’t tried to write in what feels like ages.. something I use to find solace in, something once so sacred.

Writing scares me a little now, afraid of what might slip through the cracks, seep onto the paper (or blog).

My memory is shit these days, but I still remember you.

Bits and pieces of our lives together. Songs, inside jokes, walks around the the mall after a shitty meal to make us feel better.

The first time I met you and the last time I drove you home.

I had to get rid of all the pictures from your scrapbook you made me for our one year anniversary before I moved down to the cities and I remember crying while slowly taking each picture out.

I still have that blue book, empty now but I still won’t touch it. I can’t get rid of it but at the same time I don’t know what to do with it.

I don’t know what to do with all these lingering thoughts, so I just shove them into a box with the blue scrapbook and hope they organize themselves one day.

[kelseyelycee666]

Who knew a shirt could hold a million memories.

[eliminated]

[beautifulimpairment]

loving you was the most exquisite form of self destruction.

d.j

[leohearts]

“If two old lovers can remain friends, it’s either they were never in love or they still are.”

—