a work in progress

a writing blog.

[sheddingletters]

I’m too used to you, that’s the problem. It feels foreign now to bare myself to different eyes. it’s all wrong, it’s been too long since I’ve spread my legs for anyone else beside you, let anyone else put their mouth against me and make me see god. 

you saw me, took the parts you liked, and left the rest for me to deal with. so I’ll let him dampen his mouth with all I have to give.

[sheddingletters]

He loved me and I loved being wanted

[isobutane-deactivated20140915]

Please, I want so badly for the good things to happen.

Sylvia Plath, 3 months before her suicide (via 13thmoon)

[sheddingletters]

here's what is unsaid: I want to fuck him and he wants to fuck me, but we both have somewhat significant something or the others, and it would be wrong but we both want to and I know that he knows and it's all very frustrating and very fun and I'm trying hard to stop enjoying it so much

[sheddingletters]

now, you look at me the way I always wanted you to. I wrote about you, over and over and over and over and over and over and over again until I didn't have an ounce of hope left in me, and then you decide to tell me you liked me all along. Now that I have you, all I can think about is other boys, other girls, other one-night stands and relationships and fuck ups I could have instead. I'm sorry and I don't know why and it's been a while now and you're everything to me, and that scares me more than you could imagine.

[sheddingletters]

tell me why I am twenty years old and still falling into your bed; tell me why you smile at me like that, soft and sweet, press your fingers to mine, kiss your way down my neck, my thighs, as if i’m precious, as if i’m something you want to keep. tell me, how could I ever say no?

[sheddingletters]

file this under texts I couldn't send

At some point I think I started liking you and I’m upset about it, because ‘lonely girl ends up liking guy she isn’t supposed to’ is an unoriginal story with a predictable ending. Sometimes you’re cruel to me and it makes me want you more; I want to tell you to leave me alone but only so I have a reason to talk to you again. Closure isn’t real because things don’t end neatly and looking for closure is just looking for a way to make it last longer. I don’t want closure, I want you to feel as bad, as worthless, as used as I did last time I saw you. The first time I slept with you I was 18 and now I’m 20 and I know it’s wrong but all I want is more.

Once you kissed my thigh so carefully that I wanted to cry, because all I want, all I’ve ever always wanted, is for you to treat me like I’m worthy of your care and attention, like I’m soft and delicate and something worth saving.

[sheddingletters]

is there a word for the sinking feeling you get when you wake up next to someone whose body you know and whose everything else remains a mystery?

[sheddingletters]

I like you better when you’re not trying so hard and I crave the taste of whiskey on your tongue and I still get this thrill of danger when I’m around you and I’m chasing that feeling and I’m not sure where it’ll take me.

[sheddingletters]

I hoped today would pass without a single thought of you crossing my mind, and yet I have spent every second of the last hour thinking about your hands. 

[sheddingletters]

August is the worst month for me, the beginning of the end of summer, and I've always disliked how quickly it slips by. Last week you told me your birthday is in August and it was fitting, somehow. I don't believe in signs, really, but it would be easy to take this as one. But really, I've always known this is temporary, that we are ending even more rapidly than we began.

[sheddingletters]

and then every so often, you give me that look and all I can think is that perhaps I only exist to be kissed by you.

[sheddingletters]

last time I saw you, it all seemed so simple all of a sudden, what I was doing, what I was trying to accomplish. I am used to things being very complicated, and you are forever telling me I am overthinking, overcomplicating. So I'll tell you something now, I'll tell you what struck me when I stopped getting caught up in the details. I like you best when you're sober because it means you'll be careful with me and take your time kissing every inch of me, and I like tasting whiskey on your tongue because I don't have to worry about saying something that'll make you grow tired of me, and last week we laid with my head on your chest and it seemed to me like no one in the history of the universe, no one in billions and billions of years could ever understand how good it felt, how right it felt for me to stay right there, your fingers to trail down my back lazily and hearing your voice and then eventually just trying hard to stay awake as you breathed quiet into my hair, and I ached, there's this part of me that goes deep into my bones that is always wanting more, and I ached and I ached for it to mean something to you that wasn't just a convenient warm body, and for myself, because you asked me if I've ever done this with anyone I was in a relationship with, and I didn't know how to explain that no one has ever wanted me like that, that all I've had is this, late nights and leaving in the morning and stolen moments, and nothing more. nothing real. 

[sheddingletters]

reasons i don't drive anymore

my hands shake when I’m nervous

I’m always nervous

the last time I was on the freeway, I wanted to swerve into oncoming traffic

I’m afraid that one day I won’t be able to stop myself

I am afraid

I am trying very hard to think of survival as more than just a chore

I am failing

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

[sheddingletters]

I've always felt this longing within me to be more than I am - I keep pretending I'm all these different people, as if telling myself, telling the world, that I'm strong and brave and happy will make me anything other than myself. I've spent a lot of time hoping and wishing and waiting, and I have nothing to show for it.

[sheddingletters]

I’m going to wake up tomorrow and some days that’s the most important promise I will make to myself.

[sheddingletters]

he loves his hometown like it'll save him, only believes in love at first sight when it comes to city lights and I am very careful to look away every so often when talking to him, so that he doesn't see how the whole of how I feel is pouring out from my eyes.