pieces | ethma

for the hope of it all

Emma

Being the second choice is probably the worst feeling in the entire world.

If you lose them, it's basically like losing them twice. They were never even yours to lose in the first place.

I remember being so in love; so infatuated with him, that I would've done anything to keep him close.

Cancelling plans for the off chance that he'd call me, asking me to meet him somewhere. More often than not, it was behind the local mall.

I remember thinking he'd finally just end things with her and we would be happy, but that never happened. 

I remember thinking I had him.

But he was never mine.

For a while wanting was enough. Living for the hope of it all, living for the hope he'd someday be mine.

But that never happened. He broke her heart, and then he broke mine.

It hurt even worse that he always chose her over me, but at least he still stayed, you know?

And then it was just over. He was never even mine to lose, yet it felt like I lost him a million times over.

I always hoped that he remembered every memory we shared. Twisted in bedsheets together that August.

W were still changing for the better back then. Now it feels like it was all for nothing.

He wouldn't have chose me anyway, so why was I trying?

He taught me so much, yet he wasn't even mine.

Secret languages I can't speak with anyone else.

I ruined myself for him, and the worst part is that I'd do it a million little times and he knows it.

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Inspired by some of Taylor Swift's Folklore album. <3