I wasn’t asked to a single dance in high school and didn’t have a serious romantic relationship until I was 22. And like, yeah that shit hurt when I was younger. I had a lot of fears that I was unlovable and that I didn’t deserve to be happy. And every time I would try to talk to anyone about it, the conversation became, “you’ll find someone”, when it should have been, “you don’t need a relationship or a date, you’re lovable & complete & beautiful on your own”.
So yeah, please normalize young people not dating, and please stop shaming them for it. There’s more to life than romance, despite what the media wants us to think.
THIS
Some of y'all need to read this shit and understand it fully
Just because you don’t look like somebody who you think is attractive doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive. Flowers are pretty, but so are sunsets and they look nothing alike.
I catch whispers
Like errant butterflies
Fluttering, incessant,
Rumblings so quietly
Attacking my heart
Is it you?
My communion of small
Soft dialects
My language from beyond
Is it you my beloved
Is it you?
I never felt anything towards you.
It was strange. You said you loved me, you wanted me, you wanted to keep me close and I always just played along, said I loved you too but never really meant it, I suppose.
Your heart in my palm was so fragile.
Like paper I could tear in half and watch it leave trails of ink on my skin.
I tried so hard to convince myself that I loved you too. Tried so hard to tell myself that no one will love me the way you do. But I got tired of this ruse, this act, of being in love with someone I couldn’t feel anything for.
So one night, I broke your heart. Tore it in half with my bare fingers, watched the blood spill on my soft palms as you felt the bitter ache in your chest.
I was still just trying to convince myself. That this is wrong. That this is sadistic. That this is not who I am or what I ever wanted to do.
It clouded me with frustration. I didn’t want to believe I was such a horrible person and I still couldn’t feel anything about it.
I don’t know why I was so numb. I just really wished I wasn’t.
He was a cold echo of the craters on moon. Filling themselves up with darkness and still illuminating weary nights.
I told him I loved him, I wanted him, I wanted to be with him.
He said it back,
But it never felt enough.
His frustration turned into shattered vases across the floor and his fists pulling at his hair and I couldn’t understand what I did.
He held my heart in his palms.
More fragile than the glass he’d been breaking and I was scared of letting him have it.
Drunk off beer, his mouth reeking of alcohol, his rough hands against my chest, he broke me in half. Simply. As if tearing apart a piece of paper.
And I slid against these falling walls that were trying to hold me together, sobs reverberating through me, my knees against my chest.
I wish he felt something for me.
I used the ink from my heart and drew parallels on this sheet of paper, the way the universe did to me.
It’s strange how patterns work. The way you break someone else, coming back to you the same way, but you being so caught up in the sound of their laughter that you miss the signs.
I just wish I hadn’t.
I wish I hadn’t.
"
- Tamarind Fall; Writing prompt: I broke your heart but in the end it only ended up breaking me to see the pain I caused you. (via blackpenwritings)
