You belong with me

You belong with me

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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Tue, Aug 5, 20251h 37m
Prologue "You Belong With Me" By: [Kia Mitchell ] ⸻ There's a kind of love that doesn't feel like love at all. It feels like longing. Like waiting for a text that never comes. Like silence after a kiss you swore meant something. That's what loving Lena felt like. It wasn't flowers and soft mornings - it was 2 a.m. knock-knocks on my door, mascara-stained cheeks, and whispered apologies that smelled like someone else's perfume. She never stayed long. Never stayed enough. But she always came back. And every time, I let her in. Every time, I acted like I didn't care that she only called me when she was broken. Every time, I pretended I was strong enough to be her best friend - when all I wanted was for her to love me out loud. She never did. Not when Shayla was around. Not when we were sober. Not when it mattered. And the worst part? I think she knew. I think she always knew. But she never stopped. And I never said no. ⸻ "You belong with me," I used to whisper in my head when she laid beside me in the dark. But deep down, I knew - Some people only love you in pieces. And if you're not careful... You'll break just to fit them.
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I never believed in perfect starts. I wasn't the guy who lit up a room or made girls turn their heads. But then she walked in-first day of senior year-and everything changed. Her name was Lena. Beautiful, sharp, untouchable. The kind of girl you admire from a distance and never think will notice you. And for a while, she didn't. But then something shifted. I asked for her Instagram. I started texting her. Late-night chats turned into inside jokes, nervous flirting, and long walks under empty skies. Slowly, she let me in. Slowly, I fell-harder than I ever thought possible. She started to love me too... or so I thought. But love is never a straight line. Not when her past is made of broken promises and bruised trust. Not when she starts pulling away just as I'm holding on tighter. I loved her harder the more she faded-and then, one day, she was gone. No explanations. No warning. Just silence. A year passed. Then, one night-midnight phone call, trembling voice, the same girl who broke me once asking if I still remember how it felt to love her. This is the story of how we began. Of how we ended. Of how sometimes, the people who break you are the only ones who know how to put you back together. And maybe-just maybe-some love stories aren't about forever. They're about surviving the parts that almost destroy you.

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