- Keep girls away from my heart.
- School kept as a priority.
- Keep all of my friends.
… well 25% is still mediocre.
… well 25% is still mediocre.
25. Our first kiss, my first kiss.
The morality-meter in my head, it’s broken.
Now that shes gone, out of my heart, but never out of my head, my opportunities are endless. She trained me to accept morals and standards for myself, but why? Why would I keep them for her if we were nothing, but a simple friendship? I nestled in her heart, somewhere i felt warm, cherished, and safe. Undoubtedly the only place i felt at home.
We lay together, very normal, and calming for her; Awkward and unwanted for me. I don’t think she knew in that moment she had broken my heart, I still don’t think she ever will.
My intended ride was the only one i could think of, I forget someone very close to me recently achieved their license, I’m sorry you never came to mind.
So we lay together, and it hurts, I don’t think she noticed the single tear that shed from my face, right over her. Heck, if it wasn’t mine, i wouldn’t have noticed it. An hour later, I’m finally free, also my tears when i get to roll out. You’re my brother, more than a bro. I didn’t want to shed those tears in the car, i didn’t want to shed any more tears for her in general. But when you think of all the shit we did the previous night for her; apologizing, staying out till 5am tagging her initials as I hang over the side of a bridge with my fear of heights, and don’t even mention the severe cold Lebanon, PA has to offer on Christmas morning. Man, you’d think i was dating the girl, but you’re mistaken —— I’m only in love with her.
I hope you see my heartbreak for you, I hope everyday you see your initials on that bridge and cringe at what you have done. But then again i love you, and would never want to hurt you. When you actually find out of this heartbreak, i’ll make sure to cover up the tags with black spray. Just so you don’t have to change your ways, and give any sort of emotion heading towards the thought of me.
I’m rambling, this won’t make sense. Just know that the frame you made is now in the back of my closet, the love note is in a trash-can at Sheetz, and your watch is buried somewhere in the heap of my laundry.
I tried, a lot. That’s all that matters. I thought.
Already talking to another guy? okay.
All i wanted for Christmas was for you to be single, when all i really needed was for you to be happy. I’m sorry he did it, i know you wanted to save it, but there was no use for trying i wish, i would have told you all of it… just so you wouldn’t have to go through all of this alone. This is not my relationship, but it is my problem. I hope, tomorrow when you wake up, we can walk it out, talk it out, in the morning. He’s still my friend, you’re still my babe.
I thought this would make me the happiest guy around, but now that i compare this too when you were actually madly in love with him, i felt like i couldn’t do a better job myself, making you happy. As this is being typed, I’m trying so very hard, to even keep up with my feelings of whether or not, i can step up to your standards of a man. I’m uncertain, I’m afraid,
afraid that you will never give another man a chance,
afraid that you’ll just move onto the next senior guy,
afraid that i, myself, can’t hold it together when i see you cry.
I’m tagging something for you across the city, literally.