I Hope You'll Read This
I Hope You'll Read This writing stories
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drewelizabethe
drewelizabethea girl in love with words
Autoplay OFF  •  2 years ago
An attempt at getting over the best thing that has ever happened to me.

I Hope You'll Read This

I've written about many things in my life. I've written about how it felt to have blades of grass kiss my skin and how much I miss the smell of fresh coffee in the morning.

I've written about the people who have turned their backs on me and the people I've turned my back on. I write about the devil in my head.

I write about the trespassing fingers from several years ago. Lately, I only seem to write about you.

I'm going to tell you what it felt like to truly fall in love; how it felt in the beginning and how it feels five months after.

Everyone searches. Whether they search for love or for car keys, they search.

They spend so much time searching, for answers and for happiness and for something new, that they forget how to let life flood their system.

In April, it was warm, not quite hot, though I'm so used to this heat that what is warm for me is blazing for others. Nonetheless, I had given up looking for something that I didn't even want.

I was tired of coming home every night and missing someone who was never even there for more than a glimpse, because that was not the love I wanted.

The love I wanted was supposed to come naturally, like a deep breath in the morning. I'll tell you now, I got more than a deep breath. What I received was a lifetime supply of oxygen tanks.

It was quick and unexpected, like tragic death.

Comparing love to tragic death seems more realistic than comparing it to the butterflies in your stomach or daydreaming about your wedding day because it isn't that.

True love is abrupt, jaded, messy, but let me tell you, it's everything I've ever yearned to know thrown into one night.

I found parts of myself that had been lost since three days before my fifth birthday.

I felt like the best version of myself and that sounds completely insane, but you helped me to shine through the dark clouds fogging my wide-framed lenses.

I don't even know how to come up with an appropriate metaphor to describe just how...unique love is compared to every other feeling.

I know my writing is becoming sloppy trying to describe this, so I will move on.

You probably don't remember, but I once asked you what drew you into me. You described a night in which you laid out, somewhere with no clouds nor light pollution, and you watched the stars.

You told me it was calm and blissful, that it was one of the most beautiful things that you had ever seen. You said that when you looked at me, you saw that night.

That was the most cliché fucking thing I had ever heard and I tried so hard to tell myself that it was gross to use such a corny star story,

but I'm a hopeless romantic and you were the most genuine person I knew (know), so I believed you.

I would say that's when I fell in love with you, but I loved you the second I walked back into the {place} and saw you sitting at the table, which was astounding, because I had seen you before.

Something was just different, I presume.

Side note: there are two things I regret about being with you and neither are about my choice to be with you.

One: Waiting so goddamn long to tell you how much I loved you from the very instant I saw you because of fear. Two: Not kissing you as much as I should have.

Do you think that things happen for a reason, whether good or bad? You said yes. I'd like to hope that they do.

I really want to think that it's for the best that we aren't together, that some being (God, nature, whatever you may or may not believe in) is looking out for the both of us.

The other half of me is screaming to keep fighting, but for what? For us?

For me to keep getting up in the morning in hopes that one of these days I'll stop thinking about how much I fucking miss you?

For me to stop asking you these pointless questions that get me nowhere? (You do know why I ask you these questions, right?) Stupid questions. They're what got us here in the first place.

I've told you what it felt like in the beginning. We will now fast forward. It's September.

I don't know what to do with myself. You were the thing that helped me understand the universe, or at least tried to reason with me on it. Now there are just blank lines where answers should be.

What is the purpose of being here? Is it simply lottery, that we are all here by chance? Why do some people have it so bad while others don't? Why can't I stop crying over the little things?

The big things? Everything? Why don't you talk to me like you used to? Why do I keep asking fucking questions? Why can't anyone help me? Why do I feel like I can't breathe?

Why?

Now, the parts of me that you replenished are missing again and I don't think I'll ever be able to get them back. That's okay I guess. You can have them.

Something to remember me by.

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