My grandmother's been dead for a year and two months, and my mom just found one of those fill-in memoir books in her closet that my grandmother had started writing in and had dedicated to me, her first grandchild. In it is facts and details about her childhood and adolescence, and upon looking through it one tidbit that made me emotional was her writing that when my mom was born, my great-grandpa brought my grandma a dozen red roses at the hospital and she said that to that day, years later as she was writing that down, no one had ever brought her a dozen red roses again. I desperately wish she had mentioned that to me at some point while she was alive. I would have happily brought her some on our last Mother's Day together, or when I came to visit her while she was sick and dying. Now all I can do is bring twelve red roses to her grave, and that is what I plan to do on her birthday this year.
Throw away all your memories of me. I let go a long time ago. Throw away everything i gave you. I stopped caring a while ago anyway. I want to get rid of everything. I wanted to purposely throw it away for you to see. The pressed flower painting that you gifted me. The long necklace-like beads. They were precious to me at first. I wanted to keep them to look back at when i'm feeling nostalgic. But not even for that. Throw away everything I gave you, the poncho, the gas money. Throw it all away. I wish I didn't give you anything. If I could go back, I would throw you away too.
Letters to you, JH; Each day brings a new challenge. I passed all my exams. I did better than i expected. I'm not that dumb afterall. The happiness was shortlived I don't know what to hang around for anymore. I hate this. When i passed, i thought things would get better. When i got a job i thought things would get better. When i lost weight, i thought the same too. I guess it's all just mental. It's probably never that bad, but each day feels worse than the one before. Anyway. I'll find something new to look forward to i guess.
I just want you to know what you did wrong and apologise wholeheartedly. I'll forgive you. I know i'll forgive you even if you apologise without knowing what you did wrong. But you can't just say it for show. If you don't get it, history will repeat itself. I hate it when you reach out to me. If you're not sorry then what's the point. I had a long morning that day. I was happy to see you after a long day. Why'd you have to go and make me the bad guy? Now I purposely hang back later, avoid your gaze, your questions. Why are you curious all of a sudden? I don't want to pick a fight, but everytime you ask why i'm mad, it's like you're trying it. I told you what you did wrong, you brush it off. I told you it wouldn't be the same after, so why are you doing this? I've never seen you cry this much, but i've never cared any less. I think time will fix this. I'll speak to you again soon, it won't be awkward for you anymore. But for now...for now that's a distant dystopia.
Letters to you, JH; It seems my life is a series of me working really hard then burning myself to the ground. I'm currently in the working really hard phase. I just started up again so I don't have the luxury of slowing down, but yeah. I just know i'll flip the swich soon enough. A close friend asked me how i'd lost the weight recently. I told her what she wanted to hear. I miss you a lot, btw. The moments where i don't think about you are very rare. Especially lately. I'm not speaking to my parents. I don't mind favouritism, but theirs' is unconditional. They think she can do no wrong, while I've been asked why i'm being like this, as if I'm not the one constantly being hurt. Anyway, i miss you a lot. I'm a little mad at you, but still. I hope you're doing well.
the memory of making love and they moan and cry all loud but it comes through the window like a whistle or a whisper under the bed and little children think it's a monster i'm soaked in my own blood when i die where i'll be declared brain dead and heart dead in the vatican .
you tried to talk about it once, afterwards. you named it and laid down until it was over. you named it and you watched people walk away from you. you named it and felt ashamed. you still said its name. — t.m.
i tried to leave it all behind me, but i woke up and there they were beside me. and i don’t believe it but i guess it’s true: some feelings, they can travel too. ...i hope it gets to you on some pacific wind, wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear; tells you that i miss you, and i wish that you were here. ♥
Im sorry if you couldn’t find me I have been in the woods. I put myself there because I couldn’t be good. I have been running with foxes and hunting with crows. and I have found myself a home where no body goes.
we laid in your bed and mumbled together consciously allowing ourselves to experience the absence of loneliness resigned to the knowledge that we will never be able to fully express anything in the morning your breath was sour and i felt angry at you i imagined the sound of your voice, in the future when you hate me more than you ever have then i felt the comforting abrupt movements of your hand pushing against my face i was reminded of a hospital waiting room ten years ago when i still had asthma attacks last night i had several nonspecific thoughts- mira gonzalez .