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things i'll never say | part deux. - a comedown of revolving doors [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
theseaismyhome

[ website | passion flows through her like a river of blood ]
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things i'll never say | part deux. [Jan. 30th, 2015|01:20 pm]
theseaismyhome
how can you remind me of him so much? you've made me remember how it used to be. i wish you hadn't because i lost all of that, i don't have that any more. it's completely fucking weird, you're a random stranger and you've made me remember all of this?! saying that though, i never forget the kindness of strangers. and that's the thing, no one ever really cares about me. he was the only one. i didn't think there were other people in the world like that. sure, people care but it's not the same. not that deeply. not like the other person matters more than anything. more than yourself, yes. but not more than anything. it's fucking crazy. i will always remember. like i will always remember the guy helping me at the metro in budapest, the guy on the train back in uni when i almost missed my stop. but it's confusing me. and everything about the past few months is. i'm not even sure if you're done with me or not. i don't know if i did/said anything bad, because i've had to block it out. and the thing about being in this place, i've realised i needed to be back here, to remember things. to understand more, to heal more. it makes more sense than it ever did. however, it's made me remember all of these other things, like love. and it terrifies me because i've deviated such a long, long way from all of this stuff. i don't know if i'll ever be able to get back. plus, i still don't want a future, so i don't even know how i'm gonna get out of here more than temporarily. but i know you, it's so fucking strange. although, you're not as anti-social as he is. but he made me not give up, he made me continue to live. "we'll make 16 together" he wouldn't let me... even when i begged for him to kill me. then when i realised he wouldn't, i asked him to watch and make sure i did it. but he refused to. he was the only one. i'm sure you're like him, you'll take special people to places in the middle of nowhere, you'd wipe their tears, you'd cook for them, you'd do almost anything for them. and he was studying psychology, and although i was interested in it before i met him, i was only an amateur. i was going on about freud and sleeping with father figures to him, and i thought it'd freak him out. but he didn't even look at me funny or anything for saying it. i remember that's when i realised i could say anything and it wouldn't matter. i know you're the same. why the fuck has this happened? why the fuck am i remembering things i'll never ever have again? he's the reason i'm still on this fucking fucked up earth. i don't know, but i know i want to know you. i want you. but i don't even think you want to know me. because i'm way too fucked up for anyone or anything. and maybe you didn't feel that way about me anyway, or maybe it's changed. i fuck everything up. 
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