Remember.

Remember, how we used to curl up in bed,watching movies,  wrapped around each other like vines?

We were safe, because we were in the presence of someone who understood; it was like a cool touch on a stinging wound. soft and tender. Remember, how we were back then? We fought and we argued, and for what? We weren't even together. "Just Friends", stamped on our friendship like a void. 

It was never you. It was always me. I felt inadequate. Lying next to you, who saw through the thick canvas in which I had swaddled my heart with, had never given me a greater feeling of contentment. To be accepted, to be wanted, for being nothing but my bittersweet self, was a blessing. But also a curse. Have you ever spent your entire life feeling like you're not good enough? Letting yourself be used and abused because you can't speak out...it makes you build a fortress into yourself and use an army of coldness to push tenderness away.

You choose those who you don't deserve. You get hurt. And you cry about it after. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. If I could turn back the pages of this book we call our story, I'd read every word twice over in the hope that I can get back to where we started. Every time, they said "I told you so.", and I'd reply "I know". You can say I made bad decisions, but I thought that you were a rarity, a diamond among the ashen coal that we call the world. You didn't deserve me;  I was but a bundle of broken pieces and badly sewn patches. 

Gentleness and calm resided in you. You get frustrated, and don't want to talk to me, doing just what I did in the past ,when I was confused and conflicted. But every time it happens, it rips a little piece of me away, leaving me with nothing but a feeling of missing a limb, with the wound, infected with remorse.  

I've never been able to tell you how I feel. I choke on my own feelings, spew out fiction and digress from fact. To burden you with my emotions, is a punishment. Shards, is what the world would call me. Stupid, is what you'll call me when you read this. But holes, is what I had when you left. Holes in my heart, that could never be filled. 

Because it's been you for a long time. I've recycled males more than my own rubbish, smashed hopes, and dashed dreams, but I'm conflicted. I needed distractions. Every time somebody leaves, they take a part of me, and I'm scared what'll happen when there's nothing left. I'm soft, and quiet, and tender, underneath all the defenses that life has made me wear like a thick suit of steel armour, slowly wearing me away with the burden of its weight. 

To tell someone, that you love them, for everything they are, is a big thing. I don't think I ever realized the significance of it before, when I was a girl surrounded by her own idiocy. But being alone in this town, has made me think. It has made me quiet. And it is in my self inflicted solidarity that I have noticed the gaping wound left in my emotions, that has slowly been festering in self loathing and ignorance. 

I understand, why you stopped giving me the time of day. When I would tell you about this boyfriend, and this guy, and that man, whilst knowing deep in my mangled heart that I was worth more and that you had told me so, made me hate myself. I hurt you. And to realize now, too little too late, causes more pain than any injury. It's a thunderstorm that lurks over me, never ceasing its harsh rain, just like the realisation that "I'm sorry", is just two words that lost their meaning a long time ago.

I'm toxic.

Be happy, promise me. 

Promise.

And when it's 4am, I'm in bed, and my mind wanders, it is always be to you, just like it has been for a long time now.

Always.

I won't forget. 

But will you?