Within and Without

Words from a doubtful believer.

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I think about you all the time. 

You haunt me unexpectedly, most likely when I’m certain you’ve disappeared from my memory forever. 

I wonder what she finds attractive about you. What words you whisper as you pull her close. What you make for breakfast. 

If you still watch the same movies, listen to the same songs.

If you still believe love exists purely and absolutely, like you told me so many times. 

If I’ll ever have what you left me for. 

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I can hear you crying in the other room. On the phone and crying about being so lonely. 

The door is closed and all I hear are faint sobs and bitter tones. Do you know I’m next door? Do you know I stay up for hours every night wondering what it would be like to have for myself even a fraction of the love you’ve been given. I want at least some security, to want and be wanted. You’re so lucky, but it’s still not enough. 

I say that I have nothing, but it’s not true. I’m starting to appreciate the few days I felt what you feel every day. Maybe that’s my purpose after all, to be alone. 

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Embrace sadness for it is from the lowest places that we find our purpose.

Chin up. 

If you sit and cry for long enough, the world will seem to have given up on you. Allow your tears to fall only if they are out of love for something you once had and lost. Do not worry about what you can’t change. Trust.

And when the sadness loosens its grip, go back to what you love and invest in it. Be everything you can with everything you have. 

We are not alone. 

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I want you. 

I want you to be there when I fall asleep, and when I wake up. 

I want to eat breakfast for dinner with you. 

I want to hold your hand. 

I want to drive aimlessly around our old hometown, stopping at every park we see. 

I want to swing on the swings and talk about movies. 

I want to argue playfully about music preferences. 

I want you to pick me up when we kiss. 

I want to stand on tiptoe when I hug you.

I want you to call me when you say you will. 

I want to hear you laugh. 

I want you to show up at my door with flowers. 

I want you to apologize in person. 

I want to be naive again so I can love you without hesitation. 

I want you. 

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There is a difference

between being loved and loving. 

It is not so difficult for someone to fall in love with you. 

The trouble is allowing yourself to love them back. 

Sometimes an impossible task. 

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There is a song

I’ve heard before, but never really listened to. 

It reminds me of driving with the windows down, of sticky sheets and sweaty palms, of layers. 

This song reminds me of layers, of feeling surpressed, of unsaid words. 

I drive to all those familiar places, without a purpose or a cause. 

It’s been so long, I seem to have forgotten how this started. 

I grip the steering wheel, until the anger overwhelms me. I’ve screamed, I’ve cried, I’ve punched everything in reach. 

I don’t know why this routine is taking place, except that it is all I know now. 

I know I can’t move on, I don’t think I want to. 

Words reassure.