Words left unspoken


– Are you ok?

– Why do you ask?

– I don’t know, I feel like something’s wrong.

– Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s wrong… I feel like I’m always in some kind of emotional darkness. I can’t get over it, it’s my new normal. I think I’ve learned to accept it. This turmoil inside is not meant to be gone, it’s a part of me and I can’t do anything about it. I don’t know why I even turn to you when I’m feeling like shit in the void. I don’t need you and you make no difference in my life. You are barely there anyways.

Fuck this. I shouldn’t expect you to be. You should be where you belong, in the past. I’ve got this fantasy on my mind that we could’ve been something great. But that’s just to mask the shitty things we’ve done and the fact that we are shitty people. It was never love, it was novelty, fantasy, reckless. We end up leaning on each other prolonging this fantasy of what should’ve been. It’s bullshit.

It was nothing.

I feel nothing.

That’s why I can’t understand why the fuck I keep caring about you, why do I feel the need to keep you “around”. When in fact that just makes me feel worse.

So that’s what’s wrong.

You are right.

Something’s wrong, this is wrong.

We’re wrong.

We were wrong all along, there’s no fucking special connection. It’s just the need to feel something outside this void and you are the one closest.

This is what’s wrong, I don’t have to count on you or need you to be there. That’s messed up. We shouldn’t even be speaking.

We’re toxic to each other and yet we tell this tale that we are kindred spirits in order to maintain this sick connection. You were a good challenge, I’ll give you that. A relationship between us would’ve never work. It would never be possible. You’ve never seen me as I am. You projected this fantasy onto me and I just went along with it. It was nice. The sex wasn’t that good. Sorry, I don’t mean to hurt you, it’s just that doing this makes no fucking sense.

And yet…here we are.

Autor: Erika

Quem escreve: De nome: Erika. Tenta escrever o que mais lhe apetece. Tenta ser simpática. Quando não reclama, sugere. Sorri muito. Atribui significados importantes à musica, ás cores, cheiros, sabores, texturas. Teimosa, orgulhosa, ambiciosa q.b., não cria espectativas, cria objectivos. Gosta de dormir, é preguiçosa mas detesta preguiçar. Perde-se na internet. Perde-se naquele momento perfeito. Perde-se na fotografia. Perde-se nas pessoas. Perde-se na paixão. É apenas mais alguém que escreve.

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