I need to let you both go, and that's so hard for me because I'm so selfish.

You told me to start over, I have a new chapter in my life.
I don't know if I like that, i don't like the thought of leaving everything else behind. I don't want to leave you behind R. I can't do that.
There are things I learned from you,  like how much love my heart could hold with so much rejection, except you never really rejected me, I mean we were friends. We were night time buddies, I loved that. I loved every minute of it. It didn't matter how little we touch or how we brushed off the fact that I wanted so much for you to call me your girl.
And here I am now, finished that chapter and I'm scared to reread it.
He doesn't like that chapter either, I have told him so many times that I don't feel the same way about you as I do him,
It's true. There was something diffrent with you, and there is somthing diffrent with him. I shouldn't have to compare and choose.
I think this is going to be one of my last blog posts, I'm going to try to write about my life now. I'm going to try to brush off memories. I'm going to try.
But I can't make any promises to you, or him, or me.
R, I'm trying. I'm really trying to keep you with me, but aperantly it doesn't work that way. I don't get to just hold on to you when I'm also trying to hold on to him. I don't want to let either of you fall and I hate myself for that.
Please don't leave me. Please don't. I need you here.
My heart still hurts for you,
but it's not allowed to.

Can someone get me some fucking Perc, I don't want to feel anymore

I'm just a fucked up girl who fucks shit up.
Don't get too close, ill probably fuck you over.
I'm not good for anything, I've got too much feeling that
fucks me over.
I'm fucked up and I'm starting to not give a fuck about
anything.
I'm just a fucking fake, who fakes just to feel.

comfort food

I guess maybe I have been a little sad,

Since all I have been wanting to eat are mashed potatoes and gravy.

I'm sorry I never finished the post I said I would,  I just couldn't get myself to do it.
This is the end and it makes my heart heavy but I think things will be ok.

I'm too depressed to write, I'm sorry that sounds so cliche. 

I've never felt so low, I don't really enjoy anything anymore 

I miss you, and I really want things to work with him,

but I think we are both slowly loosing ourselves.

I didn't want this to be my last blog post.

My last blog post is still in my drafts, I'm just rewriting and rewriting

Because I need to make sure I get my point across,

you need to remember me for someone I'm not;

the Real me is too sad. 

The definition of really loving someone

My hands trace the crevice of your back and I feel the way you want me and I want you too.
I planted my seeds for you, I took parts of me and grew you a forest.
Every part of your skin that my fingerprints touch grow daisies, some days but not often, they grow thorn bushes. It's times like these that we really take each other in and we don't make love, we fuck.
We fuck like we just came out of the water and we are our first breaths.
We fuck like we were never liars.
We fuck and we don't care what our families would say, we are no longer our parents babies, we are canvas and paint
And our bodies create art when we thrust, with every stroke your thorn bush cut my skin and I bleed out waterfalls that honeymooners first really kiss under.
But most days we make love, and I mean that we create love, we control the meaning.
It's you and I and daisies.
We aren't lustful teenagers we are lovers.
We forget how sad we are and we forget we are only 19.
Daisies won't ever stop growing out of your pours as long as my fingertips never stop gracing your skin.
You are the garden and my fingertips gardeners.
I get lost in the way your lips get lost in mine, I see comets with our names carved into them, other lips are jealous they don't fit as well as ours.
This is what it means to love
Moulding your skin into the missing piece of mine.
Melting till we forget we are human.
We are 19 and we don't just fuck, we make love,
digging graves as we do because we know good things die eventually.