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This diary entry is written by ‹Saudade›. ( View all entries )
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Hold My Heart It's Beating For You Anyway </3Category: (general)
Monday, 21 November 2011
11:20:13 PM (GMT)
"The fact that I care about you more than anything doesn't matter. promise me you're happy, Because if you aren't I don't know what to do." You're tearing me apart. And you don't even know it. You never will know it. I'll hide it. I'll lock in away inside. Chain it down with this knifeof mine. And bind the pain to my soul. This is my pain. It's the pain you've helped deliver to me. The pain that reminds me Of how much I care about you. The pain that keeps me sharp and cold. Knowing I've lost you. The pain I hate the most. Yet love the best. I might not have known you the longest. But I can promise you. That I love you more than naything. That I need you. That I really would never hurt you. But in the end What does it matter? What does it matter when all you can think of is her. and not me. Did you mean it when you told me you loved me? I want to believe you. I want to know for sure you meant it. And I feel like you do-- But for all I know It could be just my fear of It not being true. Im such a mess. Crying. Throwing up. I feel hot and mushy. And my chest clenches when I see your name. I'll shake. And stay up all night Because my mind keeps racing. Imagining what it would've been like if I hadn't lost you. And the nightmares are horrid. The men in them. They chase me. And mutilate me. It's gorey. It's Horrifying. But they never end. You're always on my fucking mind. I hate it. But only because it hurts so bad I spend alot of my time. Numb in a sense. Singing to corny music. Doing homework. And crying. Pretty fucking pitiful. But I can say That I haven't picked up the blade quite yet. I hate the fact that When Im talking to you I've never felt more alive. Even know. Just hearing your voice. Seeing your face. It makes it so beautifully bitter. "Tell me something sweet to get me by~" I wonder. What life lesson this is supposed to be for me. What meeting you is supposed to teach me. I've met plenty of guys who work like you do. And every time I seem to trust them. And I've crushed on plenty. So what are you supposed to mean? You're so close. But so far away. Just barely out of my reach. It's like god is fucking with my head. It's happened so many times. Why does he continue with this bullshit?
Last edited: 24 January 2012

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