"And I still don’t know if I’m a falcon,
a storm, or an unfinished song."
I don't think I'll ever get over your stories. I just cry hard every time I read them, seriously. You're the best and I salute you for that.
Aww. Thank you for reading them. :’)
"I learned that people can easily forget that others are human."
"I love you in waves,
everyday has been a hurricane."
Best. Valentine’s. Day. Ever.
And I didn’t have to have a boyfriend for it be one. :))
If next year, the same thing happens again—like a deja vu or a nightmare on repeat it would be safe to conclude that it’s not me—it’s the season; the weather—the month, the atmosphere. It’s the people, it’s the circumstances—it’s everything but me.
Maybe all February’s are supposed to be the most dramatic month of someone’s year.
This was what I was thinking about as I walked away from her and towards the direction of amusement, fun and oblivion with the most outspoken set of friends that I have. It felt all kinds of wrong to walk away from her. To pretend that there was no conversation that should happen. To pretend that the tears streaming down my cheeks were nothing more than the cold air stinging my eyes. I don’t know whose ignorance was worst—my own or my friends’. I asked why she was crying and they asked why I was crying. Neither stopped to actually listen.
I may have listened for a minute or two but I know, deep-down that if I were her, I would have preferred an hour or two. Half of which will be filled with our silence and tears as we wondered about this world’s unfairness. About our own mistakes and deficiencies. How one girl could possibly be so great in everything—so perfect in other people’s eyes—and yet end up crying alone in a park bench one late night in February.
I was supposed to find her. I was supposed to do something.
But I didn’t. I failed her.
I failed a lot of people. Even the confused seventeen-year old staring back at me in the mirror.
This is the truth: I am in the phase of my life where I don’t know yet who I am and who I’m supposed to be. And all the people who are currently around me will define the parts of me that are not stable enough to withstand change.
I should fall in love—I should get hurt. Instead, I just keep walking away. I just keep running away.