The Diary of a Fallen Girl

about you

Love is subjective, i say.

i cannot love you, i hear.

i love the concept of being loved, but fuck, maybe i just don't want to die alone. sixteen years of life have been wasted on pity and tears, all i have left are my words.

love is subjective, i say, hoping you'll understand that i really mean i want to kiss you silly and touch you until you're dizzy, but i cannot, because love is subjective. i love your blue hands and sunrise smile, i want to run my fingers through your hair and close my eyes because it might be the last thing i do. i love the thought of waking up to you, feeling your warm body against mine, pulling me in closer to whisper in my ear that you love me. i love your voice like a frozen creek, your soft heartbeat. i am fueled by fantasy. i am not inspired much but i am inspired by you; and thank you for teaching me how to move on.

you may not ever love me, but hell, i love our friendship, and i hope i never lose it. i hope i never lose you. my soul is exposed and you may have me in any way you'd like, or as much as fate allows for it.

i wish this wasn't about you, i truly do. but it is, and i will not and shall not lie. it is about you fully.

and you. this is not about you, not any longer. thank you for loving me, but i need it no longer.

thank you for killing me, for i only woke up stronger.