i was never good at writing until you broke my heart enough to have the words spilling out of my mouth

I’ve never been any good at math, but I know that I’m only a fraction of myself since you left the first time. I hate that you’ve reduced me to nothing but blank stares and bloodshot eyes, but I still wish you were here to make me whole again.
I wish you were here to be mine again.
I’ve never been any good at anything at all, but don’t tell me I wasn’t good at being yours. I was so in love with you that I wanted to write it on every surface of your skin and every nerve ending. I wanted you to feel my love in your bloodstream even after you left.
I hope my lips still haunt you when you don’t fall asleep fast enough. I hope you look for me in every persons face you see on the sidewalk and I hope you look for my blue eyes every time you see her murky brown ones.
I hope you realize you made a mistake when you kiss her neck and suddenly wish you weren’t tasting her skin, but mine instead.
I hope it tears you apart and I hope you call me on the phone at 3 am because you need to tell me you’re sorry, but god, please can we just try again.

I hope I don’t pick up.

– excerpt from a book I’ll never write

TV screens are the only thing that put me to bed now that you’re not here to hold me

I let a guy touch me and I thought I was drunk enough to make myself want it, but I started shaking so hard that I had to push him away. The only time you ever made me shake that hard was when I found out about her.

Nobody would ever think I’ve been in love. They can’t see any scars across the left side of my chest and they don’t feel the way my throat burns when I think about letting somebody new in. They think I’m scared, but really I can only fall for the ones that make me feel like I’d be a fool to think that they’d love me.

I turned into a girl who gets drunk on whiskey by herself and drinks the whole bottle of wine without wincing. I turned into the girl who became so scared of the addictive way I could love you that I made myself find an addiction that is less toxic than trying to be good enough for you.

No matter how many empty bottles I go through, I still don’t let strangers get too close. I still shake so hard at the thought of someone else’s arms around me that I’ve started watching TV to help me try to fall asleep.  I will never be enough for you, and I’m scared, but I’ll never let myself stop remembering everything I need to forget.

– excerpt from a book i’ll never write

once my therapist told me to make a list of all the things I’ve felt like I’ve lost control of and I told her I didn’t know where to start

I guess I could say that I miss knowing what I’m feeling. Everything’s so blurry these days, you know? I can’t remember last Thursday any more than I can remember the Thursday before that. I can hardly remember the days of the week anymore.

I wish that I knew what the fuck I was doing. I wish I knew why I wake up everyday, and I keep going and going, even though it’s unbearable most of the time. I wish I fucking knew why everything got so hard. I wish I knew why I got sad. God, what the fuck is that? What the fuck is this “sadness”. It doesn’t feel like anything I know but it’s the most familiar thing I’ve ever experienced. It feels like there’s this ache.This soul-ripping and excruciating ache that’s taken a hold of every part of me. I don’t fucking remember the last time I felt okay. Happiness feels like some kind of distant and unreachable concept that I’m supposed to somehow get to, even when it feels like I’m taking two steps back every day that I spend living like this.

I wish I knew why I keep letting my heart get broken. I wish I knew why heartbreak was the most concrete feeling I’ve ever had the devastating experience to live through. I wish I had more control of how my life is going and I wish I knew why things just keep happening. I wish I knew how the fuck to love myself in the skin that I’m constantly trying to rip apart. See, I’d write a list of all the things I don’t have control over anymore, but I think that list would go on for pages, and nobody wants to fucking read that. So here I am, writing a list that seems never ending, and still feeling the way I felt at the beginning. Not sure when everything started, but I’m pretty sure I’ve had enough of it.

– excerpt from a book I’ll never write


It was the way he looked at you – with so much understanding.
It was the way that he knew what you were thinking before you said a thing.
It was the way that silences were light, and feelings steady; the way that he laughed wholly, and the warmth it brought.
It was his thoughtfulness, “I saw this and it reminded me of you” – and the way he wasn’t afraid to call you out on your bullshit.
It was how he took your guardedness in both hands and said, “stop. I know you’re scared. I know, I get it and it’s okay.“ It was how he held you, not to control you but to let you know that he was there.
How he never promised to love you forever, but every night promised to love you the next day.
It was his compassion and the way that he loved without condition.
It was the love he instilled in you, the affection and care that you never knew was possible.
It was him, laid simple and bare.
It was him.

– excerpt from a book I’ll never write


the problem with having low self esteem is that your perspective is so warped.
you could be really intelligent and you’d still think you were stupid.  you could be so so beautiful and still look in the mirror and cringe.
it’s not even a consistent thing.
some days you wake up feeling really good about yourself and everything is okay, but it’s such a fragile confidence that’s so easily shattered.
and it sucks because you’re always left unsure and stuck between this need for self-positivity and the notion of “but don’t want to lie to yourself.”


i. We don’t have a chance at a future anymore. We have shown each other too many times that fear always wins in this.

ii.  I don’t know how to forgive you for something you keep apologizing for. I can’t even begin to tell you about the way you hurt me or how it burns the way it does. You were never supposed to hurt like this.

iii.  It’s not that I can’t give you my heart anymore, it’s that I don’t know how to.

iv. I wanted you to stay. I really did. I never thought we’d end up the way we did.

– excerpt from a book i’ll never write