Why we broke up [Editing]

Fairytales don't always have a happy ending, do they

I never saw it coming.
Not the break up. Neither the first nor the second.
I mean our realtionship. I never thought we would grow that close to the point were we were a couple.

All this was crazy, because I don't even know when you became such an important part in my life. It was like watching the snow fall. Gradually it shapes into something even if it takes time. You might get you used to it, the snow falling but you never see it actually adding up.

And like a snowstorm, suddenly your whole lawn is covered by all this snow adding up.

But then, it's spring again, and it all storms away.

But that's what you were, a snowstorm.

Pretty to watch but too cold to be actually be a part in.

And that's what pain felt like. 

And because of that, it felt ten times harder to breathe.

To breathe a life without you. To breathe in the concept of not having you. When, really you've had been gone long before.

I really tought I was better at some point.

But you being you, you called me up just to break me like your promises and all the lies you told me.

It stills feels bitter. 

'Cause I knew the way it would go. I was aware that you'd do it. Break up. Again.

And it was never meant to last anyway.

When really I never had forgave you.

I never got past our first breakup, so how did you expect me to do with a second one to deal with.

« "I could still feel his madness lingering on his mind by the sound of his voice still sleepy. Every parcel of him was showing infinite sadness, incurable. I felt helpless being confronted to his torments. The more I tried the more he was slipping away, bogging down, And something was telling me to give up. Something else to hold on" 

And that's how I remember him. Through his worst times, when I knew even lights couldn't reach to him»

- January 14th

And the thing was, you were mad at me. But never explained why.

That above all.

I dreamed of you. It felt like nightmares, bearing your presence and realizing you'd vanished by morning.

I was looking for answers that you could never give me. Why did it had to hurt so much. It wasn't like I had felt some kind of butterflies or other things. The only thing I had were those stupid things called feelings for you.

I was lost without you. I was all at once drifting away and drowning.

I hoped, I hoped to fall asleep before I fell apart.

But then again, I had hoped to save you, or at least, to fix you.

And I failed both. Or maybe I succeeded so much, to the point you became a brand new version of yourself.

The self I could feel in the hallway and look up just on cue to see you walking by my locker, and this time, not stopping to say hi. Hell, not even stopping to look at me.

I can't really blame you for changing. Somehow, we all do. Some for the best, some for the worse. Guess you just pick wrong.

They said, after you broke up with me, that you were the fooled. For letting me go. But I have to say otherwise, I was the fool, for not being the first to walk away.

I've been told, that I was an angel, but that didn't make sense. If I was an angel, why did I felt like hell. Why would you put me through hell.

Damien said that. He also said he couldn't understand why did you gave up on me.

But I could. And you sure as hell could.

And I wrote you words that never intended for you to read. Coming from a girl who never intended to be yours. Or as a matter of facts, never intented to not be yours anymore.

It might have scared me that you had never cared about me at all. That all you had cared about was you pretty face and your pretty eyes saving your, well... ass.

While I thought I really knew you, you screwed that all up. That a few things in the way. 

I was left thinking, that you might know someone  enough, more than anyone. But that's just your concecption of things. And so the things you know about people, are really just the tip of the iceberg. Sometimes, like hardly ever, They let you see more of it. Just like global warming and for that, you need to warm up the heart.

Then again, you think you can describe someone by the bands he listens to, by their favourite brand of chocolate, by the last place they've been happy - and you hope they'd say into your arms -. You think you truly know someone by the way they unravel their own mystery - when they hope you'd find it by yourself-. And you assume you truly know someone by the way they define themselves to you, sometimes by the last time they cried and the last time they've been kissed - and you never fail to hope again, that it was you, that it always had been you-. You think, after that, that you know them well, but you don't. You never know their deepest thoughts, the ones they're too afraid to say out loud, or the things they cope and the struggles they've been facing while having you in their life - but you kind of hope you make it better, sweeter-  And you never know, how they change and if one day, they wake up not wanting to share thoses thoughts with you anymore.

And you're certain that, with all those facts under your arm, you can stand up and claim to know someone, by heart. When really, the thing we never know about people is their hearts. 

Now, I never know how to see things, If we were the greatest thing that ever came into my life or if we were the worst. It applies to you too, I'm never sure if you were a dream come true or rather a nightmare.

If missing you came in waves, I had been drowned long before midnight.

And I can't explain it. How it feels to miss you, I think you would know if you missed yourself too. While you probably don't even blink when your hear my name. And I'm shaking just from the sound of yours.

The hole in my chest feels like yours. It feels like it's for you to fill it in. Even if that means you being the one who fixes me. Sometimes, it all felt like this. Like things had swapped. I was the one who needed saving when you weren't there at all. Now I can never if it works, if you're fixed now. I hang on to the thoughts that if it had worked, if I'd fixed you, I'd be able to fix myself then. 

And parts of me wish you lie in your bed, thinking of the conversation we had like that. How easily it was with us.

And perhaps, how easily it was breaking it up.

I remember after the first time you kissed me you said that you had been wanting to do that for a while.

I wonder if you thought the same thing when you left me.