the art of knowing when to stop

my heart is not whole, and you keep crushing it. but i spend night after night after night trying to rebuild it, just in case tomorrow you’re ready to take it.

Advertisements

“snap out of it,” my friend told me over and over. i don’t remember her feeling so much about a topic as she did when i told my tale about this hopelessly unrequited feelings i have for this particular person.

i laughed as a response to her very eloquent advice.

i thought, “if it was so easy to stop, do you think i’d ever want to stay here?”

of course not.

if i had any choice, i would’ve walked away soon as i saw all those yellow lights that blinked rapidly before my eyes, warning me to slow down. but feelings… feeling something isn’t like driving.

and while driving and speeding up and stop lights make a good metaphor for going for something, it’s not the best one i could use for growing feelings for someone i’m not supposed to feel something for.

i wish it was, really.

i wish there’s a pedal somewhere that i can step on and everything will just stop; and everything will be fine and everything will not be as scary. in an ideal world, we all have control over our emotions. in an ideal world, we all have a say in who our heart chooses to beat for.

but in an ideal world, there’s also no wars or only the right candidates are running for president.

so yeah. this isn’t, obviously, an ideal world.

’cause it’s in this world that i have fallen for someone who’s completely and impossibly oblivious to my feelings. it’s in this world did you fall for the person who never caught you. it’s in this world did you believe the promises they made when they were so happy.

i don’t know how to stop. i don’t know to stop smiling at the thought that there could be something–that in between the friendly jokes and the late night talks, something grew, something developed.

i don’t know how to stop hoping that in this world, although this isn’t an ideal world, you could fall for me, as hard as i have fallen. and God, I’ll catch you right. i’ll catch you so right, and enough, that you wouldn’t wish for anyone else. and i have never been enough for most of my life but i could be enough for you.

so yeah. if it was just so easy to stop, i would’ve stopped a long time ago. before i started hoping that the signals you were giving me actually meant something.

if it was just so easy to stop, i would’ve stopped a long time ago before i had known all your quirks, your story; before i’ve learned your language. before i’ve started knowing how your mood is just by looking at you from afar.

and up until this moment, i wish it was so easy to stop because trust me. i hate it here.

it’s worse than hope. it’s worse than anything i’ve ever felt in my entire life because having things halfway is never better than not having it all. i want to go back to a time when i don’t have a piece of you everyday. i want to go back to a time when you were just part of the artwork. when you were just in the background.

but i can’t remember a time before you. i don’t ever want to.

and it’s scary, i know. you’re terrified, i know. and i am, too–but damn it, it’s like fate has found a way to mess me up everyday because you’re my first thought in the morning and you’re my last at night. so how can i possibly stop, when you haunt me everyday. when the mere thought of you makes me get out of bed smiling.

my bestfriend tells me that my eyes light up when i tell them about you and i wonder if i could ever be someone that makes your eyes light up like that, too.

but i don’t deserve having you in halves when i’m offering you all of me, and the moon and the sky.

so i want to stop but i don’t know how.

if there’s someone out there who knows the fucking answer, give it to me ’cause i hate where i am now. you keep pushing and pulling. when all i want to do is steady your shaky hands and be here in this moment and feel how important this is because i think you know.

i think you know how much i feel for you and nothing sucks more than seeing you look past it everyday.

my heart is not whole, and you keep crushing it. but i spend night after night after night trying to rebuild it, just in case you’ll be ready to take it tomorrow.

i fucking hate living in your purgatory.

i spent 20-plus years trying to love myself and i don’t think i have that kinda time for somebody else.

(but if you asked me to stay, i will. because i’ll never be your sun but i can be your moon and your sky and who knows, someday, that would be enough.)

Author: Lora Dee

Proof that a degree in Communication doesn't make anyone less awkward; music taste ranges from the very first Britney Spears album to Arcade Fire and Haim but does not include Justin Bieber and One Direction; favorite poet is me because everyone is a poet when they're sad enough.

Thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s