Notes

7 am Thoughts (Mar)

Mar 9
I was willing to walk through fire and ice for us. I told him that nothing could shatter our love, that I would fight till the end and never give up. I was ready for it all, doubt, fear, lies, impatience, any problems we could ever face. But the only thing I didn't count on was the possibility that our love could end because he didn't want it anymore.

Mar 10
Existence is the only real burden, and having a child is the purest form of evil. Never will I create something that will be forced to exist without anyone ever asking them if they wanted to.

Mar 11
Turn. Smile. "Library card?" I'm met with a flurry of dark curls belonging to a brown eyed girl shaking her head. I blinked and sputtered momentarily. Something familiar in those eyes. A voice. Deeper. Older. Intoxicated. Sweetly deceptive. "I missed you..." I cough, shaking my head and clearing the fog from my mind. Can't start hearing voices again dang it. "O-oh. That's not a problem," Smile. "What's your last name?" Fingers resting lightly on the keyboard.
"Wayde. Ashley Wayde." I freeze. Misheard.
"Sorry, dear, I didn't catch that. What did you say it was?"
"Wayde. W-a-y-d-e." She repeats, flashing a heart-melting child's smile. Coincidence. Funny. Type. Click. Scan. My eyes glance at her book as I scan. "Frost! An interesting choice, especially for your age. But a great book. I'm impressed." I stare at her closely. Shining eyes, blending from copper to deep brown. Tan, smiling face. Long black hair, curling in locks and slightly falling her eyes. My hands itch to reach out and brush it back. Clear my thoughts. It takes only a second. Hand the book back.
"Thanks! My dad wrote it."
Inhale sharply. Swallow the lump in my throat.
"Oh! Mitchell Wayde is your dad?" Voice shaking slightly I almost start to ask how he's doing, if their family is happy, if her father might ever come by here, but choke up and remember where I am. Breath. Smile. "I'm a big fan." She flashes me another sugar sweet grin, picks up the book and skips along her way. I watch her leave. Heart beating fast. Calm down. I want to run after her, hug her like my own. Ruffle her hair. But no. My feet can't move anyway.
"Helloooo? I want my book!" Pudgy fingers shove books towards me. Scan card. Scan book. Smile. I glance at the now empty doorway.
She looks exactly like him.

Mar 16
She seems perfect. Beautiful. Mature. Caring. And I'm just me. Plain. Childish. Selfish. Who in their right mind would want me? Definitely not him, that's for sure. He's smarter than that.
And I guess everything I've done in the meantime has been a distraction. Trying to forget about missing him. Things that I'd only wanted to give him, I've thrown in the wind to whoever wants it. Every precaution has been wiped from my mind and I live recklessly, maybe because he'd always told me I've so sheltered. That's just one of his phrases that are etched into my mind, playing over and over on repeat.

Mar 17
The hardest realization is that it was all my fault.
My selfishness, disguised as caring
My pride, disguised as patience
My immaturity, with a child's face
All take and no give.
I could have been better. I should have. He deserved better.
And we all show love in so many different ways. I was so blind to the way he shows his that I had the audacity to think he didn't care.
So many mistakes. So many regrets.
So many things I'd do again if I only had the chance.
I would climb a mountain and scream until my lungs burst: I'm so sorry
I'd dive into the deepest oceans to find the scattered pieces of our past.
But I don't get any more second chances.
It's too late.

Mar 20
As fall became winter
She tried to hold onto her leaves
But nature's an irreversible force,
Always changing, pulling on ahead
No one can live in the past for long
The seasons tore her leaves away
Leaving her heart empty, cold
And all her branches bare.

Mar 23
Things you someday have to accept:
People leave.
Life's not fair.
No one is special.
Nobody is innocent.

Mar 24
If I ever die, please tell Him that I still love him, and that I'm sorry. For everything. And tell those monsters that raised me that they deserve to spend the rest of their lives cowering and hiding and always looking over their shoulder, like I did. Or better yet, don't tell them anything. Let them remember for the rest of their miserable existence that I left without a word. Without so much as a syllable uttered in their direction. That they aren't even worth the time it takes to remember their faces.

Mar 25
I am wicked
A two faced beast
That those two monsters bred.

Mar 30
I'm lost.
A tired leaf;
Carried on the winds.
Tossed back and forth,
Spinning around, upside down.
Disoriented and without direction...
They toy with my heart, my mind.
They've drained me,
Devoid of all life.
Hollow;
Empty.