emmalouise95
Left. Left like the direction? Or left like what you did to me? Because that's what you did, you know. Walked out when the going got tough, instead of standing by me like you promised to. It just amazes me that you could stand by me as I threatened to take my own life, but not for the few days I didn't feel like talking. It amazes me that you can just leave. I know I haven't been perfect, but I have lways fought for us. And frankly, I'm more than a little angry that you would give up on so much history so easily.
Positively. There is nothing I am positively sure of anymore. I feel as though I am stuck, somewhere between moderately pleased at best and disastrously at of control at the worst. It's a strange limbo. Stuck between what I used to know I wanted for myself, what I used to be sure was the best path for me to take, and these strange new desires that I find myself more and more aware of each day. It's a strange sensation, to be positively sure of nothing, especially since I was once the girl with everything mapped out.
I had to flip tires at summer heat two years ago, and you were there. I still can't believe you're gone, dead, and I never even got to tell you how much I looked up to you. It seems dramatic. I know. Hell. It feels like a movie to me, too. Because things like this do not happen in real life. In real life the amazing girl doesn't just die one day from some unknown heart condition leaving behind a scared little mouse of a girl who never got to tell the tragically and oh so irreversibly dead girl how much she looked up to her.
I'm crushed by a downpour of emotion every time I see you. Every time you cross my path. It's like I want to kiss you and kill you and sweep you up in my arms and never let you go and then tell you to leave and never come back ever again. You're killing me, slowly, painfully, it cannot possibly be good for one person to feel so much!
She was, in a word, profound. She was other things, of course. Brash. Loud. Perfect. Dainty. She reminded me of a doll. The kind your mom buys you for your fifth birthday, with the extra long eyelashes and the curls that spring back into place no matter how many times you pull them down. She was dirty, too. She cursed a lot. She drank and smoked and yelled. She was a right bundle of contradictions. If I had to chose just one word to describe her, though, it would be profound. Without a doubt. She was, in a word, profound.