love
All you need is Love, and Love is all you need.
How Do I Pick Up the Pieces?
Memories are haunting. I wish I had a way to shut them off. Like a remote for the mind, if you will. Everything is reminding me of him and it's because we did everything together. I'm mourning and I can't stop. He promised me that I wouldn't be alone. That he would never hurt me. But here I am, alone and hurt. Hurt by the person who was never supposed to hurt me. The person who I loved with every single ounce of who I am. The person that held my heart. And when he left, he didn't let go of my heart. He still had it in his grip as I forced myself out of the door. I felt every tendon snap with every step I took. Then it was emptiness. Then there were tears. A constant flow that never stopped. From 8am to 4am the next day. Constant. And food is a foreign concept to me now. Every time I try to eat something, I take a few bites and feel sick. So my body is rejecting food. It's rejecting anything I put into it. Sleeping is also a foreign concept. I've slept a total of 6 hours in 3 days. If that. Every time I try and sleep, my chest feels heavy and I can't help but think about how he should be next to me, holding me, like he did every single night for 5 months. How do you go from sleeping beside someone every single night for 5 months, to sleeping alone on a couch? And let's not forget Reyna. God, do I miss that dog. And I miss him. I wish I didn't miss him. I wish I could erase him from my memory, if only for a day.
By Sarah Mullins9 years ago in Humans
Her Name Is My Name Too
I've been in love before, so much so that there are times I believe I still am...in love with my ex-boyfriend that is. We'd known each other since junior high, same class 7th and 8th grade, and boy did I have a crush on him (he was gorgeous in every way possible). He asked me to our eighth grade prom (I'm from NYC, we had 6th and 8th grade proms) and thanks to our meddlesome homeroom teacher, Ms. Cee (C is for cockblock, who was quite colorist and self-loathing — that's a whole 'nother story), he ended up taking another, fairer skinned girl.
By Tiffany Warren9 years ago in Humans
Fire is Not a Toy
Annie. Fin. 2 paths. 2 lives. High in the mountains the birds are calling. Gently waking each other from their slumber as they rise for a new day. The goats bray as the goat herds lead them up the craggy hills and along a winding path a girl with hair the colour of the rising sun treads carefully over the morning frost. This is Annie.
By Midah Walter9 years ago in Humans
An Autistic Romance
I am 31 years old. I am not who I thought I'd be and I'm most definitely not where I thought I'd be on the path of life. 11 years, 7 Months, and 21 days ago, I met the man of my dreams. I don't know that I would call it love at first sight because I don't believe in love at first sight. I never have. People have so much more depth than just what you see at first sight. I fall in love with souls and minds, not appearances. However, his appearance did help.
By Dora Upchurch9 years ago in Humans
Forget Me Not
It had been a rough 4 months or so. I cried every night, without fail, even when I thought that I wouldn’t, I’d speak about it as an accomplisment, and he would put me down for it. “It’s only one day, you’ve cried every other day, this isn’t a big deal.” I’d cry again. Night after night I don’t know how either of us did it anymore. There was no love anymore, no safe space. I tried and I tried but I got so angry. I got to a point of neglect where I would resort to petty and harsh words just to get him to feel something in the relationship. He would only react to the extremely harsh ones. Then we would argue, yell, cry, and forgive each other endlessly until we fell asleep. We continued as such, and I continued looking up articles on what to do. I had nothing else. No job, schooling, friends that I paid attention to anymore. This began to take up all of my time. I would wake up at 3 in the afternoon and wait until I could talk to him. Suddenly everything was him, and he was everything. Day after day I began to cling more, and he pulled away. I thought each time I would go to visit that I could fix everything, it would all be great again, just like the beginning. I would lose a questionable amount of weight in the week I wouldn’t see him, and plan what I could do to make things easier again when he would come pick me up. I didn’t notice it at the time, but I began drinking pretty frequently. It became a habit to be tipsy/drunk when he pulled up to my house to pick me up. It didn’t matter if it was at 3 PM, 6 PM, 10 PM, then it got worse, and even at 11 I would be drinking. I would buy lingerie with money I didn’t have to spice up the relationship. I was 19.
By Lauren MacLeod9 years ago in Humans
Home
I wish he knew the way that I felt. But I know he doesn't. I know I talk a lot about the past, he must be convinced that I want to be there instead of here. The truth is, I am obsessed with sixteen. I wrote a song about it, I relive it in my mind every day, it's become my obsession. Maybe it's that lyric from that song I like to listen to, by the girl with a soft voice. "Gotta get it in my head, I'll never be sixteen again." Sometimes I pretend that I am.
By anxious snack9 years ago in Humans
