Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.
You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.
You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.
You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.
She started to talk less and to act like she doesn’t care. She started to ignore the things that were supposed to hurt her feelings. She started to walk away and distant herself from people unlike before. She started to act like she doesn’t need help from anyone—that she’s strong and she can do everything by herself. She started to reject most of everyone’s advices and pretend that she did not hear anything from anyone. She started to forgot how does it feels like to care for someone. She started not to join her friends and isolate herself from others. She started to become cold and remove all of the emotions in her words. She started to look at anyone with her passionless eyes. She started to cut her wrist every night because she wants to feel the pain—to feel that she’s still existing. She started to act like she changed, when in fact her heart was still the same.
the scariest things a girl could ever do (via aikkinot