mess

"Most days I wish I never met you because then I could sleep at night and I wouldn't have to walk around with the knowledge there was someone like you out there." - Good Will Hunting

 Sitting on this green chair. Thinking, thinking, thinking. At you. Always.
I'm not sure why I love you in this confusing way because, at the end of so many days I went to sleep knowing that you don't love me back and that I will have to let you go at some point, to find your real happiness, with a real person. I am, after all, a scared and confused mess. 
But how much I wish you could have loved this mess. 
Maybe I am too in love with your eyes. So green. Forest. I think I will remember that moment forever. You had your head in your hands and you were looking at me. One of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. That green. 
Or maybe I liked your soft skin, your dark hair and how grumpy you were in those crazy mornings. 
I know, baby. 

That I will only call you "baby" in my head from now on. In my letters. In my heart. 
You hurt my feelings, I thought you were a little bit different. I wish you were. My feelings are so heavy that my chest is just a broken glass now. But you're not the first one who break it. Maybe this is the biggest problem... this endless story of disappointment. 
I don't know what is so wrong about me that I have to end up like this every single time. 
Maybe it's my face, my body, my mind. Maybe it's the whole me. 
I am tired. 
I want your arms around me, to make me forget what just happened. Life just happened. My life. Such a mess. 
I want to cry all the time now. I can't stop remembering us. Maybe it's because I have never forgotten. 
I can't put it into words anymore. It's just too much. But I love you, and I miss you and God knows how much I feel everything, how deeply. But people don't need this. It seems like I'm in the wrong place, at the wrong time, always. 
An endless wrong.  
I have too much hate for myself now and I can't stop. And I'm alone. And sad. And broken.
You're there, so much better than me I assume. 
But I still love you and you know it, you'll always know. 
And I'm sorry that love is all I have to offer. I'm so sorry for being who I am.

Ascunsa