You could stay up until 3 in the morning, thinking about how you were the one who messed up things between you two.
You can write poems about him and write in your journal about the time you got so mad at him that you cried yourself to sleep.
You can drag yourself down the hallway, remembering each step you had taken with him in the past, missing and dreading for those walks to come back.
Or, you can forget him.
Forget those words he texted you every night before you went to sleep.
Forget the I love you’s and miss you’s
And remember that one night he called you selfish.
Because if someone can’t love you when you’re in your worst,
They don’t deserve to even cross your mind when you’re at your best.
1ifting (via 1ifting)
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.