I rarely go on my facebook account but I did today, and I saw pictures of my friends from college on my newsfeed. And I realized how we all won’t be living in the same dorm anymore when school starts. We’ll be living in different dorms, and that makes me sad. No more random dance parties in the basement, nerf gun wars, movie nights, and so many more.
I’m trying to remember the first person who told me I’m beautiful. Maybe it was my dad. Maybe it was my mom. Maybe it was my childhood friend and first crush. Maybe it was a stranger or a random person in my neighborhood. I searched my mind, but the quest is futile. I can’t remember. People tell me how beautiful I am, but for the life of me, it’s not something I believe in. Hopefully I get to that point where I will. You’ll tell me I’m beautiful and I’ll smile and say, “And I always will be” because dammit, it’s not vain to think of yourself as beautiful and I want to be able to tell myself that and believe it wholeheartedly.
Maybe it’s not beautiful that I want.
Maybe it’s something different.
I want to terrify you.
I want to be a disaster.
I want raging storms
and horrific tornadoes.
I want to come into your life
I want you to see me differently
from how you see other girls.
I want to leave you speechless,
and craving for more.
I’m not a beautiful person. No, I’m far from it. I have ink stains on my fingertips and heart. My eyes are aren’t like emerald gems or the waves of the Atlantic Ocean; they’re dull brown. They’re not even mocha caffeine or autumn russet. My face is far too covered with far too many freckles. They’re not constellations on skin; they’re just spatters of brown haphazardly splashed on my nose and cheeks. My laugh is loud and I let out a snort here and there when I’m laughing too hard. I lack elegance and grace. I’m clumsy and I trip over my own feet. I get wrinkles in my eyes when I smile, and I have flaws written in every part of my body. I’m far from beautiful.
Nicoleeee, rain boo, I miss you already too. I checked my phone today and I got sad because there wasn’t a message from you haha. I was going through your tumblr earlier. Oh and I had ice cream again yesterday, so I can imagine you know how I was like after…hahaha. Love you. Take care <3
They asked if I’m over you. I still think of you quite often, but I woke up today and for the first time since I’ve known you, you weren’t my first thought. I still have pangs of “I miss you” and I still surround myself with your favorite songs. I still wonder about what was and what could have been. I was never the type of person to do things half-heartedly. So when I love, I love. So to answer their question, I am not over you. Your leaving left me with sadness, but I’m slowly detaching myself from that sadness because you’re not coming back, are you?
Today, I wrote again. I wrote pieces and I didn’t feel like I was breaking apart my bones, cracking my chest open, and ripping off my skin all at once.
A Wolf’s Thoughts
I was not in a good mood last night. I was left alone with my thoughts and I didn’t want to burden people with my feelings. But then someone messaged me a how are you and before I knew it, six hours later, it was past 4am already. For 6 hours, I forgot my worries and I was just myself, talking to a nice person who might be my twin in another life haha. Seriously though, what even..the amount of things we had in common.
I love his name.
I love how he accidentally misspelled words.
I love how he reacted when I complimented him.
I love the way he writes.
I love receiving messages from him.
I love his sense of humor and his taste in music.
I love how he called me “punk.”
I love calling him names.
I love that he didn’t mind that I did.
I love how awkward he got sometimes.
I love knowing more things about him.
I loved him yesterday
and I still do today.
I don’t write as much as I used to before. But it’s good, it’s really good. Writing means you’re dying, or you’re about to die. If you’re fortunate enough, you won’t know what I’m talking about.
I wrote a long message that took up an entire page and a half. It detailed just about everything I want to say. The things that saddened me. What I got mad about. How you made me really happy. How much I appreciate you. All my thoughts and feelings. I thought about sending and showing it to you. I thought about it for hours, but then maybe you don’t need to know. Maybe you don’t need to see that. You just need to know that my love was (is) real. So I’ll just keep the letter safe somewhere. Maybe I’ll send it to you someday or maybe I won’t. I don’t know.