i’m stopping myself from reading them again – those words he wrote to me. they meant so much i’m scared to look back and remember how i felt. that niggling, vivid feeling of a lifetime lost in love.
he told me nearly everything i’ve always wanted to hear. it feels like a dream, months or years ago. but still so close to reality that i’m scared to look back.
i don’t even think it’s about chasing love anymore. i think i like the pain. the ache. the regret and the feeling of falling to pieces. i’m addicted to the hurt. it’s some sick way of feeding off the intense and excruciatingly satisfying knowledge that heartache makes me crazy, shakes me up and brings me to life, all at the same time. it seems i want the tragic love story.
the romeo and juliet.
the ache before ever after.
masochism doesn’t even begin to describe it. i think i do it to myself with subconscious clarity. i am fully aware of what i’m putting myself through but still i don’t stop.
so yeah i’m scared to look back – but you know i’ll probably do it anyway. it’s just who i am…i want those words and i want that feeling to flood my body all over again.