I Don't Need a Metaphor - COMPLETED

ten

"I have the same shoes."

Congrats. I finally made a playlist for you. I titled it "ruin my life pls." I didn't think you actually would.

I grew incredibly attached to you.  Once the downfall came around, my initial round of retrospect made me believe it was uncalled for.  After quite a few more long drives by myself, I realized just how well it made sense.

You're so attractive to me. Physically, yes, but your personality was the main attraction. I felt comfortable around you. You have depth in your character. You're more complex than you let off. I allowed myself to be sensitive around you. I started dropping my walls. Something about you made me feel as though I could trust you.

Like, when you feel skeptical about leaning into a hug from an acquaintance, and, when you do, it feels like that warm hug was the one thing you ever needed in the cold world to feel okay.

Everyday, I hope that I'm finally over you. I keep telling myself there's no reason it should be hard for me to let go of that attachment.

"With you saying that, it makes sense you grew so attached to him."

You spoke words that tasted like honey to me. This happens every time to me. I try to keep my distance while still attempting at growing some kind of intimate relationship, then I'll taste the tiniest drop of that sweet honey on my lips and dive in too deep. I allow myself to forget about my own self preservation just for a shred of a chance at emotional intimacy, whether genuine or fabricated, and I stop acting with forethought and only act according to my impulsive emotions.

I'm so used to forcing myself to be independent and to be okay with being alone. The moment I recognize the smallest possibility of someone I'm romantically interested in wanting some kind of relationship with me, I cave in and welcome them with open arms. More often than not, these people only want a physical relationship, I've found. Even the last one I had planned on spending my life with made me believe he only wanted my body and not my soul.

I'm so tired of being alone. I'm so tired of depending on myself for everything. My happiness. My comfort. I'm living in constant misery due to feeling like the only person in my story. I'm at a serious lack of emotional intimacy that I reach at shooting stars for something that'll never happen. These stars are already dead before my eyes ever caught them, and they're gone in the blink of an eye, as well. If it ever had a chance, I was already too slow to catch it.