this is my last one.

i'm stopping now. for good.

una conversacion con mi madre.

ma: que tienes?
yo: nada.
ma: (mueve mi pelo atras de mi oreja) entonces por que estas asi?
yo: (llorando) no se.
ma: que paso?
yo: (muevo la cabeza diciendo que no pasa nada.)
ma: deja de llorarle, deja de clavarte una estaca en el corazon todos los dias, por favor. deja de hacerlo. dejala ir. no es para ti. entiendelo. deja de llorarle ya. deja de sufrir. ella no es para ti. entiendelo, no es como tu. nadie vale la pena que le llores una sola lagrima. nadie. ya, aidee, ya.
yo: yo se que no es para mi. y ya la deje ir, pero eso no quiere decir que no me duela. me duele, y me duele mucho.
ma: yo se que te duele pero entonces deja de pensar en ella todo el dia. tienes que cortar todo tipo de comunicacion. ya no le hables. no le mandes mensajes. olvidala. deja que se vaya. vive tu vida sin ella. no es para ti. que voy hacer contigo? tu eres fuerte, no se por que estas asi.
yo: yo tampoco.


nadie me entiende, y nadie me entedera.

past.

i've written about this before but..

i find comfort in going back to the past. i find that comfort by knowing that at the moment something went wrong and i wanted to die, i didn't. even when i was sure i was going to. when the pain was agonizing and all i wanted was for it to end. it comforts me that i didn't. that i didn't die. that i'm here right now, alive and kicking. it comforts me because these past weeks all i've wanted is to die, to curl up and fade away. knowing that this is a familiar feeling soothes me in a strange way. because i know i'll get through this. however painful it is, i will get past it and move on. and yes, it's gonna hurt for longer but i'm prepared for it. i know i will be okay eventually.

the past is the only place i feel safe because, well, it's the past. whatever hurt already hurt and it hurts no more. it won't hurt again.

i'd like to take you to a place i know, my black hearted.

I can't give you anything that anyone else can't, and this is true. All I can provide is my sour heart and bitter hands, although it isn't enough. A kiss from you will sweeten up my salty tears and fuck me up even more. I smell you everywhere.

moving on,

i will make "moving on" a fucking habit.

10-04-2010

i'm assuming this was written sometime in the morning, around 2am.

understanding that as far as we got was as far as we'll get, made me realize, that this was really it. that's shit's done with and there's no way to change it, so it's time to move on.


and this was written at night or something.

i wanna be in love with you as long a i have to. i want to cry for you forever. i don't want to meet anyone. i don't want a hand to hold if it's not yours. i don't want to look at any girl's legs. all i want is you. but i don't think i can have just a little. i want all of you. your body and soul. but mostly, your heart. you're the only song i want to sing. the only book i want to read. only movie i want to see. the perfect instrument and the only one i want to play. my pen bleeds your name on my heart made of paper.

these days, those days.

i used to know everything.

some time.

if i could do anything to make you happy i would. if i could give him to you, i would. i'd do anything for you to not hurt. even if i did. i hurt more when i know you're hurting. i wish i could take the pain for you. i wish i could take care of you. put you in a bubble and not let anything or anyone hurt you. fuck.

and a full moon too.

and i'll keep talking shit about a pretty sunset until i find one as beautiful as you.

Samantha.

again, you. i wish my heart had stayed with you. i don't mind hurting over you. well, i don't anymore but i never did mind the pain of loving your and you not loving me. i wish i could see you one more time. just see you with my two, semi-blind, eyes. i miss you and i will always love you. you had my heart first.

me too.

and you are too good for me too.

Dear,

you don't know me and i know very little about you. this is about the woman i love but i will never have. you're an idiot. you have let go of the most beautiful, wonderful person your stupid fucked up eyes will ever see. how can you be so dumb? how can you let her go? are you blind? do you have no sense of feeling. no one will love you like she does. no one will embrace all that you are. kiss you the way she does. you won't find another girl who will cherish all that you are, with your stupidity and assholeness. no one will. how did you let her go? why'd you cause her pain, make her suffer. you are not even worthy of her tears. of her time. and still, she gave you all of that. she wanted to give you the world even if you weren't willing to give her the same. all she wanted was you. insignificant you. you couldn't appreciate a magnificent woman. i hope one day you want her back. and i hope to god she doesn't. that she makes you cry and go through one hundred times what she did. that when you want her back, she's happily in love with another boy. you don't deserve her. she was always too good for you. for everyone. but especially you. you took her for granted and i hope one day you realize how much you lost. she's worth more than just the world, she's worth the entire universe and you could have had that.

past. present. future.

people say to live in the now. to forget about the past and not think about the future. i can't do that. the past comforts me and so does the future. the past, because it's shit i've gone through. good or bad. the good because it happened and i was happy and the bad because it was shit and i lived through it and i'm okay, i guess. as okay as one can be. the future, because i need some sort of assurance that shit's gonna be okay. that whatever is bothering me will soon fade and i will be okay. i can't live in the now because the now fucking sucks.

the whole world should.

why the whole world isn't falling at your feet is beyond my comprehension.

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

ugh. when will i learn to not lurk on people's old shit. i'm hurt. extremely hurt and i'm fucking pissed off. i always thought i was a little more. i was so so wrong.

asdjklhsdjklfh

ugh! don't be stupid aidee, don't be fucking stupid.

my favorite voicemail.

"so this one time i was texting you. and you you weren't texting me back and i got really upset, so if you could just text me back, that'd be really fucking awesome. thank you. bye."

love is heartless.

that's all.

writing.

i'll stop writing about you soon, i promise. i hope these are the last of my posts about you.

aches.

my head is fucking throbbing. one ache per person, please.
i'll take the headache hands down though.

monday, october 18. year. 2010.

it was monday just less than two hours ago. omar came to my house. we drank lots of booze and now my drunkness is going down. i'm shakey and i don't like this fucking feeling. omar is asleep. it's cold and raining as i type. fall is going to be a very sad time. too sad. maybe the saddest. i've realized that i never had anyone for cold weather, in a romantic way i mean. and before, as in past years, this was never a problem. i don't care to share my bed with anyone and never cared for anyone to share their bed with me. to hold someone in my arms or to be held all night. this had never mattered to me. sure, it'd be nice if i had. but i didn't and it never crossed my mind. this year, 2010, has been the most emotionally exhausting year of my life. it's autumn now. my favorite season of the year. i thought i was going to share an embrace with someone. a holding of hands. i didn't and it's okay that i'm not going to, but i wanted to. not jsut with anyone, but with her. only with her. just with her. forever with her, always. that's how this summer, i imagined my autumn would be. an autumn full of love and kisses. nothing but hugs and warmth. cuddling and sharing of beds. i would have given her my bed. my bed was already hers. i'm sad. extrememly sad. i tell myself i'll get over her soon. i ask my friend "i'll get over her soon, right?" i am trying to convince myself that i will. i've never been good at convincing anyone about anything, how am i supposed to convince myself with this. i'll be okay. i think. maybe not now. but i will be. i'm still shakey and my throat is starting to bother me. listening to the decemberists, city and colour, elliott smith among others is definitely not helping. i have a headache. the desk if full of booze bootles and cans. mugs with no more wine in them and my ipod next to me. off. i wish i had the power to make you love me.

creepiness and idiocy.

i did something very stupid today. something i hadn't done in quite some time. i have no fucking dignity and i have no fucking shame.

two broken hearts don't beat any less.

i'm trying so hard to get over you. i can't. i don't know why, i just fucking can't. lately i feel so tired. you being in my heart and head is tiring. it brings nothing but sadness to my life. i want to get over you. loving you is the hardest thing to deal with. you're so easy to love. i fell at your feet and i would have eaten from there if it meant you'd be with me. i'm tired. i'm tired of not thinking about anything but you. of you being the only thing that goes around my head. i'm tired of you having my heart but not wanting it. i'm tired of writing about you. i'm tired. so tired. so sick. i'm tired of being in love with you. my life shouldn't revolve around a girl who doesn't love me and who lied to me about doing so. i love you but get out. it's too much now. for too long. there's no improvement on my feelings. no lesser love for you. my pain and sadness are still the same from august 31. the same. i still cry myself to sleep almost every night. i still dream with you. still day dream. the only thing that's changed is that i don't expect your texts. i don't expect you to talk to me. at least that's a little comforting. that i don't expect anything from you. not even a friendship or whatever. i like that. because when you do say something, it's a little surprise and it makes me somewhat happy. even if you talk about him. i know that he is your Paige, if that makes any sense. so i am aware that whatever sadness you're feeling, he will most likely be the reason. just like you are the reason i am sad and the reason i hurt and the reason life has no meaning these days. i want to get over you. i want to find something to make me get over you. to make me hate you. i can't find anything. i've told you you're perfect and i mean it. i can't find anything i don't like. anything i hate. not even that you were confused about your feelings towards me. not even that can make stop being in love with you. i want to find something. give me something. give something of yours i can hate. something. anything. make me find an actual flaw. let it surface. please. i don't want to be like this. i can't be like this much longer. let me hate you. let me be so angry at you that i fucking despise you with every bone of my body. just give me anything. i love you but loving you hurts more than anything else. loving you is all i know how to do and i can't keep up with this.

drive them away.

i don’t let go easily. same with moving on. i always dwell on the same person for far too fucking long. sometimes i think it’s just me not wanting to. i think it’s the feeling of familiarity. you know? you already know how you feel. you know the sadness. the pain. letting go implies starting again. someone new will come soon, maybe not right away, but soon. and what happens when that person breaks your heart? see, with the current broken status you already know what it feels like and soon it will become a bit easier. but when you let someone in again and again you become vulnerable then that’s when shit sucks. i’d rather hurt over paige forever than to let someone in and let it happen all over again. at least i know paige is worth is. and i wouldn't want to feel this way over anyone ever again.

you.

you are perfection at its best. because to me, you are perfect. nothing less than perfect.

arms. legs. whatever.

i am twenty-fucking-three years old. i should not be thinking about cutting. it's so stupid. i am not a child and i should be able to deal with my feelings, emotions, whatever in an adult way. in a grown up matter. i just want to cut. that's all i want. to cut. to press the piece of broken glass on my arm. to slice away at it. the blood. i miss the blood. i miss the scabs and i especially miss the scars they left. they're like pictures of a time when living was hardly bareable. when so much shit was going on in my head. in my heart. when living was a burden. once the cuts have healed that's when you know shit's okay. but once you're cutting. the moment your fragile, human skin starts to open up and bleed, that's when it all goes away. everything that is going on, all that shit that you want to not think about, is gone. that easy. cutting is hard to quit because it can so easily make everything bad go away. even if for just a second. one second. sometimes this is all i ask. to be okay for one fucking second. to not hurt. to not think about being the unlovable human being that i am. to not think that my heart is fucking broken in a million little pieces and it will take forever to put together again, and even then, it will be incomplete. it will have little pieces missing. it won't be the same. for one second. cutting does that to me. it makes me forget. it makes me happy. it makes me feel something else other than heart broken. i want to cut. so badly. i want this to go away. i want to cut.

be happy.

i just want you to be happy. that's it. just be happy.

miss misery.

my memory's gone to shit ever since you and i stopped doing whatever it was that we were doing. the only things i can remember are things that involve you somehow. anything. everything. all i remember is you. my mind is a blur. my eyesight has gotten worse. to the point when i can barely read the captions on television. i can't remember anything now. i can't see anything now. only you.

sleeping sickness.

that feeling is back. the one that makes me want to die. the one where curling up in a fetal position and cry for days seems like the only way for me to live. when crying yourself to sleep makes it even all that harder to get up in the morning. with eyes swollen and massive headache. close to a hangover. when veins are ready to cry out all over my clothes and floor. when limbs want to be broken, so maybe the shit the goes on in my head will stop circling around and i can concentrate on my broken bones and not you. broken bones hurt less and heal much faster. that feeling when binge drinking seems like an alternative to life. you wake up with a hangover, if you wake up at all. and that hangover will consume you for the rest of the day. a throbbing headache. a dizzy head. stomach pain. acidic vomit. all these things seem wonderful compared to having you run around freely in my head and especially in my heart. if you're lucky, though, you don't wake up at all. when at night you get on your knees and pray the god you don't believe in to let you sleep for eternity. to not let you open your eyes one more time. to end all this. times like these, pill bottles are your friend. your best friend. there should be a pill for heartbreak. i'd overdose on them. hand around my neck, your hands around my neck, this is all i ask. all i want. to die with your pretty, pale, beautiful, soft hands tightening around my neck. to feel my breath lost. my veins collapsing and my brain shutting off at the lack of oxygen. to orgasm into oblivion. all i need is your face and touch to feel the glory of the most amazing moment of ecstasy. do me that favor, please, and kill me. give me at least that and make this feeling stop.

it's just one of those days. that feeling is back.

falling for you.

i can't say no one will ever love you more than i do because i know you are capable of having people want to die for you. for people to be addicted to you, like i am. all i can say is that no one will love you the way i do. no one ever will.

want.

here's what i want. i want someone, anyone, to come rip you away from my heart. to come and tear you away forever. i don't care how much it hurts. i just want you out. i hope i never relly loved you and this was something else like it was with you so i can forget you. ugh. sdjhsdkfhsjkldfhkdjfhakjsf who the fuck am i kidding, i am crazy in love with you. madly. deeply. addicted.

i'm pathetic.

this is what i find funny. i write about you. almost if not all that i write or post anywhere, is most likely about you, for you, whatever. and you write about him. how fucking pathetic am i? i mean, how fucking stupid and ridiculous am i? fuck.

even in my dreams i hurt.

maybe you weren't even real. maybe i made you up in my dreams. or even worse, my nightmares. maybe you don't exist. maybe you were an illusion. some sort of magic trick i tricked myself into tricking. maybe i was hypnotized by your eyes and everything after that was made up. maybe i've never even seen your face. maybe i've only seen pictures. maybe i saw and felt your perfection through a picture. maybe your pictures don't exist. maybe i haven't even heard your voice. or smelled your scent and hair. maybe whose hand i held wasn't yours. maybe i didn't even hold anyone's hand.

what if you really don't exist? what happens? if you don't exist, if it wasn't your love i felt, your hand i held, your embrace i cherished, if it wasn't your scent and hair i smelled, if it wasn't your big, alluring, brown, hypnotizing eyes that captivated me, then why do i feel the way i do?

i hope you do exist. i hope you weren't just a fragment of this fucked up imagination that lacks imagination. i hope that when you're in my dreams it's because you have been in my prescence and my dreams are just living what happened and what my heart wants to happen. what could have happened and what didn't. just living the little fact that i am madly in love with you and how terribly i miss you. all of you. all that is you. all that is Paige. even in my dreams i'm in love with you and even in my dreams i hurt.

so far.

sometime this week, either monday or wednesday, i was i don't know how close to where you live. and i know you think this is creepy but just like you, i have a very good memory. especially when it comes to you. but i was. i was at the gas station around where you live. i don't know exactly where you live but i know it's not even five minutes from there walking. and you can't imagine how hard it was to not scream your name out. to not text you and let you know i was around there. to not cry. i break down every time your name is mentioned. every time.

just fucking love me.

i guess i'm just in love with you and right now, i don't mind the pain. maybe i will mind it tomorrow, but right now, i don't. i'm just in love with you and i don't wanna stop being in love with you, ever, i wanna crumble in this pain and die from it.

you are the most interesting human being.

you're so interesting. everything about you is a perfect complexity that i wanted to solve. you're a puzzle. you know those like 2000 piece puzzles. every piece is something you've gone through. which explains the complexity of you. your anatomy is perfect. your "flaws" are perfect. you wouldn't be perfect if you didn't have those flaws. your eyes kill me. maybe the most beautiful thing i've seen in my life, along with your face. there isn't one fucking thing i don't worship about you. i wanted to make you my religion. my goddess. my everything. my all. nothing less than my all. i'd bow down at your feet. kiss them. i'd get on my knees and ask for forgiveness even if there was nothing to forgive. it's just, you're perfect. everything. just. perfect. every centimeter of your body. every hair. every pour. every freckle. the tan line on your feet. your chipped nail polish. your voice. even when it cracks. especially when it cracks. how it comes out of nowhere. your personality. your clothes. your sarcasm. your anger. even your sadness. every word that your lips uttered. even the ones that carried pain to my heart. everything. to me, you are perfect. you should be perfect to everyone. i will never have the pleasure to meet someone as incredible as you are, as interesting, as beautiful, as amazing, as you. i don't want to either.

get out.

sometimes i just fucking wish i never fell in love with you. i want all these fucking feelings to have never existed for you. for them go away. i love you, but i don't want to anymore.

the meaning of pain.

i wanted my pain to mean something. i stopped trying or whatever because i knew i wasn’t going to make you happy, because i knew that i wasn’t who you wanted. what you wanted. not back then. not now. not ever. i knew this. but i thought you were at least somewhat happy, therefore, i didn’t mind the pain. i wanted to hurt over something i couldn’t do anything about. i don't wanna hurt if you're unhappy because that makes my pain meaningless and i want that, at least that, to mean something.