#spillled words
Some days I can’t resist the temptation to torture myself with the memories of you.
Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #204
You were an illness I needed to recover from. You weakened me and every one of my relationships from my family to my friends. I’m better now, healthier now, but I always worry about a relapse into you.
Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #204
I miss your handwriting. Is that weird? That I miss the way you wrote my name and the slanted and angular way you wrote the words that both stole and broke my heart.
Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #202
I tried. I know that you know that, everyone does, but I failed. For some reason to me that feels worse than if I hadn’t tried at all, if I hadn’t been there for you, if I hadn’t held your hand and gave you hope. I tried, I’m so sorry that I did because it didn’t make any difference at all in the end.
Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #201
I consider her my first child. The first one that I sacrificed for, cooked meals for, explained homework to, watched out for. I mourned her when she left for college, proud and strangely sad. I took her crying phone calls when classes were hard. I comforted her, protected her, encouraged her and when others told me this wasn’t how it was supposed to be I ignored them. They didn’t know. Who else was going to be her mother? She’s grown now, we both are, and she has kids of her own. She does the things I did with her, the things our mother didn’t. She bakes Christmas cookies, goes camping, travels, and she cooks them meals, explains their homework and protects them.
I consider her my first child and I am proud as hell of how we both turned out.
There is a certain point when hi means I love you. I miss you. Say something. I don’t know what to say. We are broken and battle scarred. I don’t know what I’m doing in life. There is a certain point when hi means more than hello.
Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #200
I wish people were more careful with things they can break like hearts or people.
Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #198
We still say I love you, like it means something. Like the words are strings that keep us tied together. I’m unsure if we mean them anymore but we say them, out of habit and a little out of fear of what it would mean if we stopped saying them. Somedays, I love you, and others I don’t think I do, but no matter which day it is we both still say I love you.
Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #196
It’s time to get out. And I know this. We are long past good and into something unfamiliar and unpleasant. I know that, but my heart keeps saying, “just a little longer.”
“You’ll waste your life waiting,” logic reminds me.
And I know this but the hope and the what ifs push me forward. “Just a little bit longer,” my heart reminds me, and I wait knowing I’m delaying the inevitable
Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #193
You’ll get cut on my broken pieces and though I don’t mean to, you will certainly bleed. I don’t want to hurt you, in fact it is usually as I try to protect you from my own brokenness and jagged edges when you will. Don’t hold onto me too tightly, your palms will come away aching, bloodied and scarred. Believe me when I tell you that I’m not ready. I am not capable. I am not to be loved, because in this state I know my capabilities and though I don’t want to I will leave you less whole than when I found you.
Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #207
Seeing you undid a year and a half of getting over you, and I honestly expected nothing less.
Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #205
