Never at the right time, I swear. You meet somebody and things are going swimmingly then life sees that you’re actually doing pretty swell and says, “Damn, she’s happy. Can’t have that!” And tosses something shitty in there. When you meet somebody and you share a connection and… Oh I don’t know, that person has feelings for you too. So it’s not just another ridiculous one-sided infatuation. But of course they die, or you find out they want somebody else, or they have to go away soon. Then you’re left to pick up the pieces and you can’t say anything or complain because everyone around you warned you that you’d be alone again and that the happiness vanishes after a while. Then you’d be back to watching cheesey romantic comedies alone while you give your friends advice on THEIR wonderous relationships and listen to them gab happily about how they think they’ve found ‘the one’. So you can’t help but question yourself…

They always want somebody else, so nobody will ever fucking want me.

After you get what you want you don’t want it.

I could give you the moon, you’d grow tired of it soon.

“He picks another pretty girl

Your life has gone to ashes

He forgets more about your fragile world

As he remembers her lips and eyelashes

You feel abandoned in a world full of beauty, art, and color-

As the cold unseen hand of depression stirs,

You remember it clear and you shudder-

It’s hard to forget the memories of butterflies and ‘I love you’s.’

It’s hard to forget those faded dreams

Knowing clearly that they just weren’t true

Someday when you’re old and grey

One day when you’re dying…

You’ll look back right on this very day

And admire yourself for trying

Someday when you can look at him clearly and notice you feel nothing

You’ll laugh it off and forget about it all-

Along with his lies, his cheating, his bluffing.

That’s when you can repeat it all

And gain absolutely nothing.”

Mind: Logically, he’s everything opposite of what you need right now. You need someone strong, stable and someone who’ll stick by your side even when you’re feeling weak… He’s an immature adolescent male.

Heart: Yeah. Forget that douchebag, he doesn’t even know what love IS anyway, darling.

Body: Ignore the stupid butterflies too- he only wanted you for your body and when you didn’t give that up… He got bored. Let him chase the sluts.

Me: You’re right. I’m done. I’m finally finished. I’m ready to move on-

*He smiles*

…

Mind: On second thought… Maybe he’s learned his lesson. Maybe he still thinks about you. Maybe he remembers you.

Heart: Maybe he can repair what he broke.

Body: Maybe he still thinks you’re beautiful.

Me: …Fuck.

Isn’t it insane how one can automatically block out a single person’s horrible traits and pretend they don’t exist, just to live in the blissful denial of a one-sided relationship? Even if you don’t tell me I’m beautiful anymore, I still get a rush of giddiness when you look my way. Even if I pretend not to care, it stills kills me inside to see you look at other girls. Even if I swear on my life that I’m so glad that I can finally look at you and feel nothing… I still know it’s a lie.

What kills me most is to know that this is all probably just me being an idiot again. You probably don’t think of me as much as I think of you. Come to think of it, I probably never cross your mind. Why does this little voice in my head keep telling me that I don’t want anyone else? Billions of people belonging to the male population and all I want is you- despite all of your faults and mistakes. Even if you can’t accept my own. You’re not the epitome of perfection and niether am I, so why can’t you understand that I can’t be your dream girl? We had something special and you threw it all down the drain- and for what? Am I really the only one who is still haunted by our memories?

This is why it’s so difficult for me to believe in love.

Now all I’m left with is the memory of your stupid brown eyes while you can easily jump into love again with any unsuspecting chick you meet.

I guess I’ll just sit here and pretend to be over you until you become slightly interested in me again.

I love you.

I hate you.

Bye.

Reblog if just like in (500) Days of Summer, you want a guy to have a little list of insignifigant little things he likes about you.

So nobody’s there to pick up the pieces after he’s gone.

Foooooollow for more.

*sad face*

Merry Christmas guise.