Thursday, December 31, 2009

To Go Out On A Wire

I started placing all my bets the day that we met.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

To Draw Me In

There's just something about you that makes me completely lose my breath.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

To Smile At All Your Words

Ever since I met him, it's not even worth thinking of anyone else.

Monday, December 28, 2009

To Let Go && Move On

I'm not your ex-girlfriend; it's more like…I’m the best thing you ever let go.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

To Find You At Last

That's what you don't get. To find two people who have the same heart isn't a coincidence. It's a miracle. And it happens every day.

Friday, December 25, 2009

To See Us Fall Apart

No, it's not what you said && it's not how you said it,
But it all came undone the moment you meant it.

Friday, December 18, 2009

To Guide My Thoughts

The person you end up needing the most is the one you swore you never wanted to start with.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

To You I Dedicate This

The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - that you’d thought special, particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you’ve never met. Maybe even someone long dead. And it’s as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

To Never Lose Hope

Sometimes in order for something beautifully miraculous to happen, you have to make it through a terrible tragedy with hope for a better tomorrow.

&& baby you're all I've hoped for!!

Monday, December 14, 2009

To Display Courage

I still wish you'd never let go, but I can't change that now. I believe that a small part of me will always miss you. I also believe that my heart will always leap to the ceiling when I see you. But I can't let this affect my life, like it has for the past two months, anymore. I refuse to be cynical about love because of you. This is it, I've found my bravery. I'm over you && moving on.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

To Forget These Memories

I guess that it's typical to cling to memories you'll never get back again to sort through old photographs of a summer long ago of you && a friend that you used to know.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

To Dream

Last night I dreamt of you for the first time in awhile. I saw your smile again. Your eyes again. And I felt your love for me again.

But when I woke up I realized, that youre not mine still. You don't smile for me anymore. Your eyes don't stare into mine anymore. And you don't love me anymore.

Monday, December 7, 2009

To Be Perfectly Honest

I loved the thought of you. Not you.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

To Realize That You Can't Make Him Stay

So I kno that this is different from mi other posts but I read this story and had to share it. I feel like every girl who has had her heart broken can in someway connect to this:


He is beautiful, new, unexplored. He has wanted to kiss her ever since they met one week ago and fell prey to helpless chemistry.

“Don’t,” she says, moving her hands in a subconscious “yes” pattern along his arm as he rubs his cheek against hers. “You don’t even know my favorite color.” The wind cuts through her thin jacket, and his chest is so warm.

“Red,” he guesses, improbably correct. His ears are cold.

“And how many dogs do I have?”

“Two,” he says, and she laughs wildly at his luck as he nuzzles her neck.

“I’m trying to save you,” she tells him, pushing fruitlessly against his broad shoulders. “So you don’t wake up tomorrow and regret this.” He smiles, cupping the back of her head and pulling her to him so their lips brush.

“Maybe I don’t want to be saved.”

The sun shines the next morning in an artificially happy way; the gravel is especially sharp against her bare feet. Bewildered but happy, she stands on her tiptoes to hug him goodbye. “If I ever see you again, I-“ he stops her with a kiss.

“When you see me again. ‘When,’ not ‘if.’”

The next day as she spills a bottle of peppermint syrup down her apron at the local coffee shop, he shows up and orders a large latte and a kiss.


It took one month before they began to officially date, and a couple more after that before he whispered “I love you.”

But in retrospect, it had only taken an hour with him to know that he would change her life forever.


“Why don’t you write anymore?” he asks from the loft above her. She petulantly puts down her pen and sighs.

“I can’t think of anything to say. I have no words left.”

He slits open his eyes and quirks his mouth. “You stopped writing when you met me.”

She neither confirms nor denies the statement. She instead clambers up next to him and tugs on his foot thoughtfully. “I’ll start writing again.” A grin spreads across her face. “Will you still think well on me? When I’m a famous author and all?” She tosses her hair around, and he grabs her hands in his and pulls her down so she topples over on him.

“Well, I’ll be married to you, so I think that’s a yes.”

He releases her and throws himself backwards on the pillow. She cuts off the overhead light and smiles at the ceiling, listening to the bedroom noises long after his breathing becomes deep and regular.


“You deserve better,” he tells her. “I’m nothing. I’m worthless. You deserve someone…perfect.”

“I don’t want perfect, I just want you.”


The frequent fights have begun to take their toll.

The most recent left her almost as breathless as the makeup sex. Both were frantic, driven by anger, and painful. She lies quietly next to him, one hand resting lightly on his ribs, and makes no sudden movements. She can’t afford to scare him away after fighting so hard to keep him.

“I’ve started smoking pot again,” he whispers into the silence of the room. She cannot respond to this, and so she says nothing.

What he does not have to say: I am weak.

What she does not have to respond: I know.


She can’t keep herself from kissing him, can almost talk herself into believing that because he is unhooking her bra this will all turn out ok. She will live happily ever after. Their hands fumble, quick and practiced, but it feels wrong this time.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” she asks, running her lips along his jaw. “Are you going to stay with me? Am I going to stay with you?”

“Does it matter right now?” he asks, his palms sliding almost lovingly against the curves of her waist.

Afterwards as he pulls on a pair of boxers, she becomes starkly aware, for the first time, of her nudity, her vulnerability. “We shouldn’t have done that,” he says, shaking his head. Then—“I think we should take a break.”

So it did matter, she realizes, watching the grey evening light slip through the venetian blinds and over her naked body. It mattered more than anything.


The Saturday seems like every other Saturday they’ve spent together over the past 14 months, except he is curled in a chair, futilely avoiding the elephant in the room, and she has welcomed it with open arms.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he says forcefully. “This isn’t going to work. I need freedom. I can’t worry about some girlfriend.” His voice is thick and foreign.

She stares at his familiar face, the soft arches of his eyebrows, the strong jaw. It is melting into something unrecognizable.

“I don’t want to end up as a piece of your writing.” He smiles wryly. “But I know that someday you’re going to make a million dollars off of a story about how I broke your heart.”

“You promised you wouldn’t be the one to break it,” she says desperately, feeling incredibly pathetic but unable to stop stumbling towards destruction. The rain beats against the windows, matching the steady tattoo of her heart beating against her ribcage.

“I tell lies,” he says quietly, and looks away.

She looks closely at this boy she thought she knew, and begins to think that maybe, finally, he has told her the truth.

Her car keys are cutting into the palms of her hands. Her necklace is too taut against her throat. She watches her life break down like one watches a car accident, with morbid curiosity. She has looked back and been struck useless. She is a pillar of salt.

“I think you’ll regret doing this,” she says, and forces her body to take one step towards the door.


“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I don’t regret it right now.”


Someday she will meet an amazing boy, beautiful, new, and unexplored. He will kiss her neck and hold her hand in public, know that her new favourite colour is green, and that she only has one dog now. He will love her.

She puts pen to paper—

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

To Be Original

Because the last time someone tried to make everyone the same, eleven million people died.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

To Resist Your Pull

I will no longer be victim to you and your ways. I've grown up and moved on from you. Forevermore, I will let my first and only true passion lead me to someone I share a passion with for the rest of my days.