04-29-2020, 08:00 PM
i think i'm better on my own but i get so lost in you
She had tried not to think of him, but it had proven to be difficult.
She had tried to lock him away in the back of her mind, tried to preoccupy herself with other things, other ventures, but no matter how hard she tried it was always the boy made of glass that haunted her.
There was a rational reason for this, she tells herself.
Of course she would find it difficult to stop thinking about someone so strikingly beautiful. Of course it would make sense that he would be impossible to shake, when he is the only thing made of glass that she has ever seen. He is unique and brilliant and so entirely different from anyone else in her life. Where everyone else is sharp-tongued and rough-edged, he was sweet-mouthed and kind in a way she wasn’t accustomed to.
It had seemed like a harmless idea to seek him out, to see if maybe giving herself what she wanted – him – would make the irrational thoughts and feelings go away. If he was anything like the rest she would lose interest. He would lose his shine once she realized she could have him whenever she wanted, and she could move onto the next thing. She could pull the slip-knot in the strings that attached them, and never look back.
Until she lost track of how many nights were spent curled against his side, until stars and glass tangled so many times she wasn’t sure where he ended and she began.
Until her heart started to flutter every time he touched her, and she realized that she couldn’t stay, because she was never meant to have beautiful, fragile things.
She would have stayed gone forever, she thinks, had it not been for the stirring inside of her that woke her up in the dead of night. She remembers the panic that had swelled in her chest, like the waves of the ocean were crawling up her throat and trying to drown her from the inside out. In the days that followed it became all the more clearer that it was not her imagination, and realizing that she could not run away from this – from what they have created – she looks for him again.
She finds him in the meadow, as the day is bleeding into night and the promise of stars glitter in a darkening sky. She tries to ignore how the sight of him makes her heart hurt, and that when their eyes lock there is something strangely similar to guilt reflecting from hers. “Thomas,” she says quietly, stepping through the twilight until she is before him. “I’m sorry I left,” she tries to hold his gaze in the dying light, and there is a part of her that hopes that maybe he is angry, that maybe this will be easy, because she could call upon her own anger faster than anything else.
She had tried to lock him away in the back of her mind, tried to preoccupy herself with other things, other ventures, but no matter how hard she tried it was always the boy made of glass that haunted her.
There was a rational reason for this, she tells herself.
Of course she would find it difficult to stop thinking about someone so strikingly beautiful. Of course it would make sense that he would be impossible to shake, when he is the only thing made of glass that she has ever seen. He is unique and brilliant and so entirely different from anyone else in her life. Where everyone else is sharp-tongued and rough-edged, he was sweet-mouthed and kind in a way she wasn’t accustomed to.
It had seemed like a harmless idea to seek him out, to see if maybe giving herself what she wanted – him – would make the irrational thoughts and feelings go away. If he was anything like the rest she would lose interest. He would lose his shine once she realized she could have him whenever she wanted, and she could move onto the next thing. She could pull the slip-knot in the strings that attached them, and never look back.
Until she lost track of how many nights were spent curled against his side, until stars and glass tangled so many times she wasn’t sure where he ended and she began.
Until her heart started to flutter every time he touched her, and she realized that she couldn’t stay, because she was never meant to have beautiful, fragile things.
She would have stayed gone forever, she thinks, had it not been for the stirring inside of her that woke her up in the dead of night. She remembers the panic that had swelled in her chest, like the waves of the ocean were crawling up her throat and trying to drown her from the inside out. In the days that followed it became all the more clearer that it was not her imagination, and realizing that she could not run away from this – from what they have created – she looks for him again.
She finds him in the meadow, as the day is bleeding into night and the promise of stars glitter in a darkening sky. She tries to ignore how the sight of him makes her heart hurt, and that when their eyes lock there is something strangely similar to guilt reflecting from hers. “Thomas,” she says quietly, stepping through the twilight until she is before him. “I’m sorry I left,” she tries to hold his gaze in the dying light, and there is a part of her that hopes that maybe he is angry, that maybe this will be easy, because she could call upon her own anger faster than anything else.
i think i'm better on my own but i'm so obsessed with you
desire
