every time i think about inumaki post shibuya all i hear is a loop of
MY SHAYLAAAA
one day i’m missing you, the next i don’t even care if you’d call or text my phone. even if i don’t want to, i’d often find myself thinking about you, wondering why you didn’t text, why you don’t ever call, wondering if you miss me, wondering if you’d ever man up and say what’s on your mind. these thoughts are incessant at first, fresh after our last meeting—and then it slowly wane as i forget why i was ever hung up on you—i forget why i wanted to call you mine.
— the pull was strong when we were together but just like you, i’m better off forgetting this feeling than to keep on hoping you’ll become someone i could call my own.
marina grace
i’m sorry we haven’t been in touch for years. i’m sorry that i didn’t text you back when you asked me if i wanted to meet up that one time. i guess i am a coward, but it’s not like i don’t want to reconcile when it’s all that i have ever dreamed of since the day we parted. i didn’t mean to give up on us — but somehow, the thought of reconciling is like damaging all the fond memories i ever have of you, and i’d rather live in the past then be disappointed by the present.
— to me, old memories of you are better kept that way.
marina grace
you were blue but you were beautiful, the kind of beautiful that rip my heart inside out and the kind of blue that left me drowning in the tears you’ve shed when you thought no one was watching. i thought you were so extraordinary, that you painted such a lovely shade around things and people could only glimpse at you in awe, watching that beautiful blue spread everywhere and leave traces all over the place, blue that tipped from sky to sea and it was all you because that blue was the only colour you could paint, that this world made you blue and you were so colour deficient that blue is the only thing you could give to people like us, people with colours. i’m just sorry i didn’t realise you needed saving until that blue is gone and the blue i’m left with were no longer extraordinary but the kind of blue that empties out all my colours and leave everyone wondering how i became the blue you used to be.
— you painted the world blue and when you left, i became the same blue you spread, empty but beyond beautiful.
marina grace