Tell Me Every Terrible Thing You Ever Did And Let Me Love You Anyway.

- Clementine Von Radics

The words don't come easy anymore.

Peter Pan once told me "never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting"

The more time that passes the more it feels like our sentences really ended with goodbye.

I always thought that we were chapters of the same book. But I'm starting to think I'm a fantasy while you find your home in nonfiction.

The amount of time apart is creeping slowly up to the amount of time spent together, and it terrifies me.

Pretty soon I'll be the lost boy you forgot you tucked into bed.

I’ve learned now that there is no getting over you. There’s living with your memory or being haunted by it. I’ve let years go by with you stuck to my back like a tumor I couldn’t rid. But that isn’t what you are. You’re a piece of me. A piece that I protected so dearly I lost sight of the reasons I protected it. I’ve learned that every single person I’ve ever loved I’ve written their names on pieces of me to remember forever. I wrote those names down and treated them as if they were punishment. But it isn’t and it never was. I’ve been lucky enough to know what love feels like in so many different ways. I’ve forgiven every heart break except for yours. I’m sorry I’m still working on it, but then again you don’t want my forgiveness anymore. You’ve found happiness in such a familiar place it actually took the breath out of my lungs when I saw it. I can’t deny that it felt like you punched me in the face, but I left you to find happiness else where, how can I be mad that you did ? You don’t read these words anymore. I don’t blame you for not. But I feel like you’ve always been a safe place to put feelings I don’t quit understand. I’m trying to find the writer you once loved, this time without you. She’s only ever come out for you to see, so I will learn to move on in the same place I fell in love, writing to a ghost that has never been on the same page as me. Because here those feelings can live forever without having to feel like their clawing at my ribs. Here I can release them to be finally free of.

Sometimes I forget that you used to write about me. I forget that you loved me with the same fire that burned inside of me. I let my pain make me forget. I let my pain replace the patience and forgiveness that we once had for one another and the pure belief that you meant what you did. But your words and actions said you knew it was a mistake, I just wouldn’t let myself hear it. Until it was too late. Until we became the strangers we promised we’d never be. I forget you used to write about me, maybe that’s why a piece of my heart will be forever intertwined with the words on your tongue.

I’m sorry. I am so sorry I let the darkness take over. I was the problem all along. I told you how much I fought loving you, it seems like it was all I knew to write for a while. But it seems like no matter how hard you tried I was never ready to stop fighting. For us. Against us. I think the fire burned too hot to ever find comfort in. But if I’m being honest the memory of what we called the future still lives in a house in the back of my mind. Sometimes I step inside and I can hear the laughter over the music. I can feel a warmth of happiness wash over me. It could’ve been real. But I always lock the door as I leave, keeping that happiness right where I found it. Because I’ll never be able to touch it again, not without thousands of pieces of glass shattering all around me. Not without hearts being ripped from chests. Not with any certainty that that happiness has a home outside of my mind.

If I could do it all again … I would’ve loved you sooner. And I would’ve stopped fighting against us. I would’ve given you what you needed without the fear living in my stomach. I would’ve slapped you that night. And then I would have kissed you. We would’ve been infinite.

Je t'aime à la lune et retour ours en peluche.Quand mes yeux ouverts dans la matinée tout ce qu'ils veulent, c'est de vous voir

I wish I could see you one last time.

I wish I knew the last time was the last time.

It’ll never happen, but if it did,

I think my heart would stop beating. I think my lungs would refuse air.

And I think I’d die when you just look the other way without a care in the world.

I confuse people. i have a happy personality and a sad soul. i'm bold but shy. i love deeply but sometimes i feel heartless. i'm healing and hurting at the same time. i'm dedicated to growth, but i self sabotage

— Clementine Von Radics

My biggest regret will always be not hitting you that night. Not kissing you that night. Not fighting for you that night.

You said you’d always leave a light on for me … you must of forgot to pay the electric bill.

I liked the way you let me break my own heart. I think I always knew I was safe to let you see that side of me. To see the broke down girl in the corner crying on her birthday. Because you’d always be there. But I know now that doesn’t always mean you’ll be in my life. We loved in the world of writers, we wrote each other into our stories and left them for the world to see. I will never be able to unravel you from those words, and why would I want to? In those stories lives a love so strong that it blew up so many lives. A love filled with sacrifice and two people finding their way back to each other over and over again. In those stories lives a love worth remembering. I used to compare us to the great love on the big screen, I think I was looking at the wrong ones. We found each other and burned too brightly this time around. But something in me can’t believe we won’t meet again and next time, we’ll get it right.

Because no matter how many goodbyes we’ve had, none have felt like forever.

“part of me is mad that i wrote you into my stories. because i can no longer read them without falling in love, and breaking my heart at the same time. but part of me is so glad i did. because it reminds of how beautiful our love was, even if it destroyed me.”

i still miss you (via baby-imyoursx)