4:00 pm [Loving you was the best and the worst I ever did] by Darkdaries
I wrote this book to stay close to you because all we have are good memories; it almost makes me forget the bad ones. I see you every day and I continue to let you in even if my head is screaming at me, telling me, "No, all he'll do is hurt you without even trying." But still, my body reacts to your touch; it feels so right and wrong I don't know how to explain it. How can someone make you love them, hate them, and crave their touch so badly it hurts just to think about it. The feeling is there and we dance around us; you play in my hair and that helps me escape the world around me. We played around like it was our thing, is it thought? But we also disagree on the simple things, and we don't talk about the fact that you are jealous. That one day I will finally move on from you, even though deep down you know your hooks are in me deep. More than I like to admit, but, it's true I'm hooked on you baby; you are my heroin. You are my best and worst addiction. Sometimes you're the very pain of my existence, because of the way you can turn it all off and make it feel like a delusion, a dream. But it wasn't; it was real. Even if the people around us don't realize it. Don't worry, I'm keeping up appearances, but I do wish we would be more than a long five-second hug, maybe more if I'm sad or mad, and, you know, because my body doesn't give in to you. It's like my whole being tense because you are likely the reason I can't breathe in a room full of air. But one wrong or right move and my moods are dependent on you. I have gotten better. But it still doesn't change the fact that we continue to do this and you know, I won't end it, whatever the hell this is? It's like our story is a movie, but somewhere in the middle it just stops and repeats. We met and time-frozen just for a little bit for us to have just five more minutes and then time up and, you hurt me or left me breathless. We go our separate ways and maybe we kept in contact. I always expected an end, but it never came. I don't know how it ends and it's killing me not knowing. - M
