The Overshared And Underappreciated Mind Of A Hopeless Romantic

Playing Jigsaw

"I am still learning to go back and read my own chapters without feeling like I want to set all the pages on fire" - E.V. Rogina

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Comfort Doesn't Have A "U"

I have a horrible concept of time. I'm never right when I have to guess how long I've been doing something. I get lost in my thoughts and when I resurface, it's like no time has passed.

But for you, I feel like it's been a lifetime. I don't miss you as much as I used to. I don't crave your attention like I did. I don't want to talk to you anymore. You're no longer searing your name onto my heart every time I look at you.

I feel free.

I won't deny that I look back at what we used to be and want to tear at the stitches that I've so carefully sewn into my heart. Sometimes, I want to feel that pain again; the ache that filled my chest, the salty ocean that filled my eyes and washed up on my pillows; the constant curiosity of what could have been, comforted me for so long.

It took me a really long time to realize you aren't as great as I made you out to be. I put you on a platinum pedestal. You were who I made you to be – a romanticized version of yourself.

You weren't good for me.

We had such good times together. Like when we walked on the frozen lake or when we decorated those sweaters. I hold those memories so close to my heart because you were good then. We were good then.

But you made me anxious. You couldn't grow up. You were too stuck on losing your childhood to realize that you were almost an adult. You dismissed my concerns and you never talked to me.

You broke my heart; it's time I put myself back together.

You aren't who made me, me. You're a high-school sweetheart I'll look back on fondly.

I've made myself better. I didn't need you. I don't need you.

I wish I realized this sooner. I wish I realized that my own happiness is important.

It's comforting to not have to worry about someone else all the time.

I've found comfort without you.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Girl In The Mirror

Her eyes are a kind of caramel brown when the light hits them just right. Her dark brown hair constantly falls in her face and gets stuck on her berry-coloured lip gloss. When she swipes at the strands, they leave streaks of colour on the silver, square-framed glasses that compliment her face so well. She smiles at her reflection, running her tongue across her teeth and lingering on the chip on her right incisor.

She spends a very long time in front of the mirror, analyzing every inch of herself. The way her hair falls over her shoulders, the scars on her cheeks, the very small size difference between her left and right eye. She can see that her eyeliner isn't perfectly even. She gets frustrated, wanting to wipe it off, but she has to leave for school.

She's so occupied with her complexion that she fails to notice the string hanging off her shirt.

It's pointless, worrying about the things people don't notice when they pass her in the hallway.