I act and react based on emotion. Instead of listening to what my mind tells me, I always follow my heart. I’m an emotional creature. I understand rational thinking and logic, but it’s not in my nature, I’d rather feel more than I analyze. And that’s my problem, I’m a liability to myself and to those around me.

they treat you with the highest regard, and they respect and acknowledge you. But you’re too busy to notice. You treat them as if they’re insignificant. And while you’re too busy, neglecting them, someone else is giving them attention. They don’t have to beg the other person for it, they’re willingly giving it to them. They don’t sit around and wait for you to acknowledge them because someone else already has. While you’re not making time for them or treating them right, someone else is comforting them and listening to them cry about it. The other person will see every bit of good that this person is and they’ll treasure it, they’ll hold onto it. So while you’re too busy to notice, while you don’t acknowledge them, treat them as if they really matter, someone else is. So don’t be surprised if one day, that someone else has them. Don’t be surprised when the “good thing” you have becomes the good thing you had, and you’re forced to watch them genuinely being happy with someone else. Open your eyes and start to realize what you have, make the effort to show them that they’re important to you, or watch them as they leave.

They say the first cut is always the deepest, it’s the one you remember most. But what they failed to mention was that each cut after that, still hurt the same, some more than others, but hurt nonetheless. And every cut, leaves a scar, a mark, a reminder of every single one, of every time it’s happened. You tell yourself that you’ll get used to it, that somehow, it’ll get easier with time, but deep down, you know you’re telling lies, you’re in denial. Because every time it happens, it never really gets easier, you never really get used to it. You start to expect this kind of pain, you expect things to turn out like this, all the time. You learn not to set yourself up, you learn not to have hope or expectations, because when you do, and you’re left disappointed, that’s when it hurts the most. But instead of hoping for someone to come along, wishing for them to erase all these scars, all these reminders, you hope they’ll trace them with their fingers, and kiss them with their lips. Instead of seeing you as damaged or broken, they’ll see you as a work of art.

I was going to delete your number today, the very last remnant of you that I have left, but I hesitated. I don’t feel like I’m ready for that yet. I don’t feel like I can let go that easily just yet. I tried to delete your number today, but I sent you a text instead. Saying that I was thinking about you, just one last time. To be completely honest, I knew I’d feel like this, and I knew it would be hard, and I tried to delete your number today, I know I should’ve, but I didn’t. I don’t expect a response, I don’t expect you to say anything, I just wanted to let you know, I was thinking of you, just one last time.

If one day, you hear my name, will it be my face that you see in your mind? Or will you forget? Will the memory of the things we went through and the things we did flash through your head? Or will you forget? Will you reminisce about the way it felt to hold me, how it felt to kiss me? Or will you forget? Will my voice and the things we said replay in your head? Or will you forget?

The Mixtape.

She hesitated before handing him something wrapped in an envelope, and she had written a short message on the outside. ‘Listen to this when you get home.’ He smiled and tucked it away in his pockets. They said their “goodbye”s and “see you later”s, and as he left, he closed the door behind him.

He took the envelope out of his pocket and opened it. Out fell a little mixtape. Written on the mixtape was another short message, ‘Enjoy!’, it said. He popped it into his radio, and let it play in the background. It was filled with the kind of music he liked, the kind of music he’d fallen in love with. He went to his bed and laid back while listening to each track.

He realized that most of these songs made him think of her. It made him think of the way she smiled at him. Some of the songs reminded him of their first time hanging out and their first kiss. One of those songs reminded him of the night she got terrible news and all her could do was hold her while she had cried that whole night. Although it was a sad moment in her life, when he looked at her, he saw her beauty, her vulnerable side, and from then on he decided that he’d wanted to be the one to protect her. Some of the songs that played, reminded him of how no matter how mad she was at him, she was always there for him. It reminded him about the quiet nights they spent together, and the fun times they both shared.

She was never one for talking, often trapped inside her own head, but he understood her. He knew what she was thinking, she didn’t have to say a thing. He knew when she was happy and sad, or on the rare occasion, mad at him. 

He’d suddenly realized that he had fallen completely in love with this girl. This simple, beautiful girl. He could feel himself falling for her with every song that passed. He wondered if she had fallen in love with him too, he wondered if she felt the same way. He was never really one for love, he was never really one for sticking around too long, but something was different this time. 

As the music started to fade out he heard a familiar voice on the tape. It was hers. He knew that it was hers. She had left a message at the end of the tape,

“It’s 2 A.M., it’s pouring rain, and the only thing I can think of is you, so I decided to make you a mixtape. You know I’m not really one to talk a lot so I figured this would be the easiest way to tell you how I feel. Did these songs make you think of me like they made me think of you? These songs, each one of them represents something I wish I could say to you, but I never seem to find the right words. Do you see it now? Do you feel it now? I think I’m in love with you and I hope you love me too.”

He smiled and said “I do. I love you too..“ 

I could write a thousand love songs or a thousand poems, and every stanza, every word, they would be about you. You’ve become my inspiration, my muse. You’re the person I think about, you’re the one I write about, the one I spill my ink on the page for. In hopes that someday, you could see, just how truly amazing you are to me. The things I write, I feel I could never say out loud because the words are jumbled in my head, I’m a writer, and although a writer’s words can be said, a writer’s words, carefully thought out, are best when they’re read.

I’ve taken some time away from you and I’ve been able to clear my head and think clearly about everything. I just want to say that I’m not mad, and I’m not sad or anything. I’ve become confused between everything we both would say and do, and I had become unsure of how either of us felt, and that stuck with me. When we first met, you said that you didn’t think you were ready for a relationship, and I think you were right, and I should have really listened to you when you said that. I’m grateful that you have been willing to get to know me, and as I’ve gotten to know you a little bit better, I’ve come to like what I’ve learned so far. I think you’re a great person, and I think you’re an amazing guy. With all of that being said, I don’t think I can continue ‘reserving’ you, and I think we would be better off as friends. We might not talk as often, and I don’t want to be the type of friends that don’t see each other or speak to each other, I’ll still be here, just like I promised I would. I only want the best for you, and I don’t feel that I am a good candidate for that. Taking the time to think it over last night, I have come to realize that I had become too dependent on you, and I think you need someone that isn’t like that. I’m grateful for everything we’ve gone through so far, and I hope out friendship will bring us new experiences. I know what I’m losing when I’m telling you this, I’m losing my chance to start something with someone I think is so great, but I know what I’m gaining, I’m gaining another really good friend that could possibly have a positive influence on my life, and I think that’s all I can ask for from you. I love you, but I’ll keep it at a friendship type of love. This is hard for me to do, but I know I have to, in order to save what we have left, otherwise I can feel myself becoming destructive and dangerous for the both of us.