-------------------------------------------Mood: BetrayedWhen someone hears the word friendship, they think of good times. They think of someone the can rely on. Someone the can trust and talk to. They think of the precious memories that will never fade from their mind. Like a picnic that accidentally ended up in the river so they decided to go for a swim. They think of the time theyíre parents got divorced and there was that one person they could talk to about it. They think of that time when an antagonist was throwing them down, and they had that one person to pick them back up. They also think of the little things; a shirt borrowed and returned, a lunch paid for, a simple ride home.
When I think of the word friendship, I get a pain in my chest. I wonder why he would do something like that. Why would he assume? I think of all the good times we had together and I throw them all away. I think that I donít need him, but I probably will in the end. When your dad died, you think of that one person you could talk to, and it just happens to be him. Sometimes thatís not the case. Sometimes the thought of him makes your stomach churn with anger. When he looks at you you imagine what it would look like if he were squished. You donít go back to him, even if he tries to come back to you. Youíll make new friends. With your trust entangled with problems, each friend will be better.
The truth about that is, if every friend became better, people would stop getting hurt.
And thatíd be too easy.
...Created 2010-01-15 17:23:28
|Journal: Border my love|
-------------------------------------------Mood: Too much at once...I love the way you flip your hair. I love the way your eyes shine in the sun. I love when weíre in a crowded room and all you see is I. I love how your eyes are soft against mine. I love the way your fingers caress my body. I love the way your lips linger. I love the way you turn back to look at me as you leave. I love the way the heat of your body felt against mine. I love that you could make me feel like I was special. I love the accent you whisper in my ear. I love your passion in what you believe. I love how you stick to what you say youíll do. I love you.
I hate how often you flip your hair. I hate that you close your eyes so I canít see. I hate when weíre alone, and you canít see me. I hate how your eyes pierce through me. I hate how your fingers cause harm. I hate the thought that your lips found anotherís. I hate that you leave quickly. I hate how cold I feel now. I hate that now I feel like shit. I hate that accent that told me to leave. I hate the passion you have in fighting. I hate that you actually left. I hate you.
Thereís a thin line between love and hate, and you border it. I hate that I canít love you but in a way Iím glad I canít. I wish your were still beside me, sometimes so I could hit you. Maybe it wasnít meant to be. Maybe fate has found a different path for you. While youíll still in my heart, Iíve never been in yours. I wish I had your sweet American accent back, sometimes so I can tell you where to shove it. Those kisses we shared, well, I thought they were special, but you were sharing them with someone else. You were my first love; I was your first boy love. You were shy about us together, didnít think it was normal. Now youíre back where you should be, and the same over here....Created 2010-01-12 17:51:25
-------------------------------------------Mood: LonelySorry you can't define me,
Sorry I break the mold,
Sorry there, I speak my mind,
Sorry I don't do what I'm told,
Sorry if I don't fake it,
Sorry I come to real,
Sorry there's no way out....Created 2009-11-24 16:41:15
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