Saturday, August 11, 2012

Oh my god.

Isla Vista can you shut up for like one second.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

I really need to stop being a brat.

One day it's going to bite me in the ass.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Hurry up, kiddo.

Eighteen is too far away.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Was already feeling it.

Then I found out you're a dancer. Attraction skyrocketing.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Square one.

Now that it's done, I can go back to feeling. To tasting, to touching, to living. I'm back where I started, but this feels nothing like failure. I walk into the void, guiltless and fearless. This is exciting, this is delicious.

There is nothing like this. There's nothing holding me back now.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Every damn time.

"The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives be rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have already dreamed, properly, of a man who is better than I am."

What I do to people.

Friday, March 30, 2012

I will miss you.

But man, you are one dumb idiot.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Thursday, March 8, 2012

But you didn't deny it.

That's what cut the deepest.

Monday, February 27, 2012

To Tayler.

Truth be told, in the beginning you were no more than a way to keep my mind off the hurt that I had grown so accustomed to feeling. He's cute, I said. It's harmless, I said. Give it a try, I said.

And so I did. I gave you a try. And I've gotten way more involved than I ever expected to. What was once something I wanted to keep purely physical has turned into a full blown commitment with its own share of heartache and tears. I've come to care about you very much, so much, too much. I'm relying on you to help me get over my grievances, and I'm so upset because it's just not working.

I want to say that by going the extra mile, by doing more for you than any other person has ever done for you in your life, I want to say that I'll be the one that lingers in the corner of your mind. I want to impress upon you the thoughtfulness and tenderness that I so want you to have, things you don't necessarily lack but need a whole lot more of.

I want you so much to make me happy. I hate being so miserable and disappointed and crushed all the time. I really hope you'll be able to do that for me.

So please, I'm begging you, don't let me down.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

To Shinnie.

I never thought I would miss you this much. I'm over the hurt, past the bitterness, beyond the angst, but seeing you makes my heart so heavy. Your voice, your laughter, your awkward smile—I want them back in my life. I love seeing you so happy, but it saddens me to know that I can't be a part of that happiness.

I'm in a good place right now, with someone I care about deeply, someone who makes me smile in ways you never did. But at the same time, there's so much he's lacking that I had found and treasured in you. The maturity, the subtlety, the high-level vocabulary, the sheer amount of thought you put into everything. It astounded me. You absolutely blew me away, Brandon. I've never been so dazzled by a person until I met you. Too bad you didn't feel the same way about me.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

You were drunk when you told me "I love you."

I'm almost certain that you'll never say it sober.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Reduced to seeing you.

For only seconds at a time. In wistful glances over my shoulder. With a tired, heavy heart.

Monday, January 30, 2012

Then he asked me.

"What does that mean?"
What's another word for desperate?

Monday, January 23, 2012

Oh, and I don't deserve you.

I'm selfish and narrow-minded and old fashioned and prude. I expect too much and give too little.

I don't deserve you at all.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

I suppose I could be content.

Even if only for a little while.

Friday, January 13, 2012

This is getting out of hand.

I think I just lost a battle. A part of myself that I can't get back. I don't want to be an addition to the collection. I want to be something else.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Self-control.

Oh, but you're so pretty. I would have at you, I really would. What I wouldn't give to see you helpless, eyes stunned and breath heavy, labored. Shaking, trembling, because you don't know what to do with yourself. Biting down on your lip because you just can't take it.

My hands would be at your neck, pulling you closer, holding you down, pushing you away. Fingertips brushing across the tops of your cheeks, kissing your nose, stroking your hair.

I want to absorb your confidence and self-assurance, wipe off the loose, easy, heart-breaking smile that lights up your face so aptly, knock down the boy who thinks he's got it all and render you breathless and gasping and fighting—just one more inch of skin, please. I want to be that standard, the one you'll relive constantly, blushing to yourself in class and shoving your face in your hands, thinking damn it, not again, and stare furiously down at your assignment. The one that's always in the back of your mind. I want to make sure you won't forget me.

But I have self-control. Sometimes I hate myself for it.

Monday, January 9, 2012

I'll admit it.

I probably do spend more time than necessary pondering the shapes that your lips make around certain words (especially the Korean ones) and how that mouth might feel against mine. Also, your voice is nice, and the bones in your wrists are nice, and the mischievous smile that trails behind the sidelong look you cast me is nice, too.

This was not part of the plan. But damn if I'm not enjoying it thoroughly. Oh you.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Elaboration.

I want to see you intoxicated. I hope you'll get that pretty pink flush right across your cheekbones. That your eyes will get glossy and bright, shine with a sort of hero worship that never gets old. Not even for me.

I imagine that you would taste sweet. Sweet in a way that only a boy like you could taste. Experienced, confident. (But you've never done anything like this, have you?) You're still so untouched.

I imagine that you would close your eyes, lashes fluttering shut to cast paper-cutout shadows on your cheeks. Maybe you'll tilt your head back and I'll be able to feel the nervous flutter of your pulse. The stumble of your heartbeat and the catches in your breathing. I'd like to hold your hands in mine, the bones in your wrist standing out against the spiderweb criss-cross of veins silhouetted in your skin. I'd run my fingers along the sloping angles of your face, the smooth expanses of your neck.

"You're so lovely," I'd say to you.

"No I'm not," you'd say right back.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

I can't stop fantasizing.

But you would look so cute tipsy.

Eyes too bright, glassy. Cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Mouth a little nervous. Inviting, tempting.

That's my kind of appealing. You're my kind of appealing.

I want to see you come undone. I want to be the one who does it to you.

And I want to do a whole lot more than that to you.