Sunday, February 10, 2013

Remember when I told you I can't write when I'm not sad? Do you remember when I was so restless I feel like I'm being restricted and I can't stop smoking I need to light a new one right after the other? And remember when you told me that sadness is so addictive? And remember when I told you that the Smashing Pumpkins had a song about it? Intoxicated with the madness I'm in love with my sadness. And that's what we're trying to do right? To not make sadness be our drive? But it's hard.

I need to tell you something, and I think you should know. I have never felt such happiness like in the time that we've been together. You have been really good to me and I have never felt so good about myself since you happened. But there have been many times that you have hurt me too, and I never said a thing. And there have been many times that you made me so lonely. Half of the credit is mine from over thinking things and for being too afraid. But I don't know why in the times that I have been really sad because of you I couldn't manage to write a thing. The feeling is there, the usual feeling that fuels me to write something is filling the air around me. But I seem to be out of words. It's like my ability to speak was taken away. And all I could do is swallow every weight that is pressed against me.

I don't know if it's you or it's me. But I can't write decently. It's like I don't how to write anymore. And I'm afraid to choose between writing like mad and you. I think I'd choose you. And I fear I shouldn't. I don't know. I am confused.

I went through my notebooks today. I read them all. I noticed I write differently when I write about you. Maybe you have this effect on me. It's unfamiliar, but there's comfort in the unfamiliarity. Maybe, just maybe, you were right when you said that.

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