It's 2:06 in the morning and I am nowhere near tired despite having had to work today. It's been kind of a "chill" week simply because I don't have any papers due or midterms to take!
Breath of air, come to me. It feels so good to have the luxury of breathing and relaxing instead of constantly straining my eyes and working my brain to meet deadlines. Yes, it is indeed very pleasurable.
Tonight, I am lamenting. I wonder how do you manage to knock the wind right out of me every single damn time. Why does forbidden fruit always taste the sweetest? It's probably quite foolish of me to even allow myself these thoughts but do you know I pass by your window every single day and I can't help but recall the times I've looked out that window. Or the times my eyes have caught the morning sunlight through your broken blinds.
You're right. There are these invisible yet stubborn strings that have formed but I try hard to deny them. I will keep you in a box. But I won't throw away the key that opens the lock to that box because parts of me keeps wanting you to resurface into my life. It's shallow, if you were to really think about it and give it that much depth. You become a stranger and the closest person to me so easily. What's the value to our relationship then?
I keep wanting to fix things. I wanna fix you. Tighten that one loose screw, change out the dim lights and oil that rusty chain. I hang around and try because I feel like I can make a difference.
But if I'm trying to fix you; who's going to fix me?
---
I finally just read some of the messages you left me about 3 weeks ago.
WHY do you even bother? Seriously? Seriously.
I won't be coy about this. I'll just come straight up.
Aaron How (yes, once again. I know, I'm sick of it too!), you're a cheater. You manipulate people and the words that they say to your advantage. You live in this sick paranoia thinking that the world is out to get you.
Hey guess what? Maybe they are because they can't stand the way you are. Or maybe, it's just your subconscious guilt leading you to all that fear. I don't know, I don't fucking care.
I just wanted to say you've met your expiration date and say what you like. What-fucking-ever. I could care less the about the things you say to me or what you think about me. You can't bring me down. You don't have my consent this time, I'm sorry.
Who are you again? You're someone's regret. You're someone's disappointment. You're someone's wasted time, dreams and efforts. And maybe, you're just someone's wasted words; words that can be as hollow and as empty as ever.
Just so you know, I cringe at the thought of you.