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You were the first and last person to hold my heart with all of its pieces.
A beautiful boy once told me saying love you is just habit, to say I love you is to mean it, and I’ve never forgotten that …
I forget what it was like to be in love with your best friend until my mind betrays me with a memory of you …
I liked the way you let me break my own heart. I think I always knew I was safe to let you see that side of me. To see the broke down girl in the corner crying on her birthday. Because you’d always be there. But I know now that doesn’t always mean you’ll be in my life. We loved in the world of writers, we wrote each other into our stories and left them for the world to see. I will never be able to unravel you from those words, and why would I want to? In those stories lives a love so strong that it blew up so many lives. A love filled with sacrifice and two people finding their way back to each other over and over again. In those stories lives a love worth remembering. I used to compare us to the great love on the big screen, I think I was looking at the wrong ones. We found each other and burned too brightly this time around. But something in me can’t believe we won’t meet again and next time, we’ll get it right.
Because no matter how many goodbyes we’ve had, none have felt like forever.
It’s easy to see now, you were begging me to love you and I was teaching you to unlove me…
no ones ever let me break my own heart like you did . . .
the diary in my head.
i can only feel a thing in the summer, there's nothing left come winter.