today, while at work, i found myself shaking. just shaking. i couldn’t stop; i couldn’t control it and i wasn’t quite sure where the sudden attack had even come from.

thomas witnessed me, palms together, hands in the air, eyes studying the unpredictable little movements of my fingers, and questioned why it was happening. he asked, “is it because of him? or, maybe, it’s because ofhim.”

i couldn’t for the life of me determine why, exactly- or perhaps rather because of who- i’d suddenly become so nervous. but i know that if i were to ever find myself in such a state because of any boy, it wouldn’t be because of that one or the other; it would be because of the man i think of day and night, in slumber and in consciousness. the one whose name and face isn’t always directly in front of me, but is always there, deep down or just below the surface, constantly haunting me and dragging over everything i do.

i can’t escape it. i never will.

(Source: dujardick)

when he smiles, i just want to cry.

i saw him for a split second; he was smiling. of course it hurts because of the fact that although he may be happy, it has nothing to do with me. but i’m glad for him, i really am.

my god, that smile.

he has this sweater that i absolutely love; it’s a wool, off-white cable-knit cardigan, and i’ve always wanted to wear it.

i laid on his bed in his t-shirt and my shorts- his favorite ones. he was sitting in the chair at his desk, with his legs up on it, and i was on my stomach at the end of the bed. i reached down to get the paper ball he’d made and then thrown at me; it was too much effort to get up so i stayed hanging off. “if you’re trying to make me look at you, you’re doing it right.” he leaned back in the chair; that’s when i noticed the sweater.

for some reason it made me laugh, what he’d said, and i couldn’t stop. i just laughed, a real, genuine laugh, which surprised me. “god, you’re adorable. and this is the greatest view.” i somehow managed to get up form the bed and walk over to him. i asked to wear the sweater, and he said yes. so i took off the t-shirt and put the sweater on, buttoning one of the middle buttons.

you never realize how big guys are until you’re wearing their clothes.

i just can’tbreathewhen i’m around him. thinking about him, even.

it’s like i’m being suffocated, and there isn’t enough oxygen reaching my lungs or even my brain; then i can’t think and i become this mess.

well, it’s official. he is now completely and utterly out of my reach.

it’s weird, though; i’m not that upset about it. you’d think i would be considering the fact that this man has made me miserable for the past three-odd years. but i’m actually kind of happy for him. it’s weird, i don’t exactly know how to explain it.

though, i’m sure this will all change the moment i see him. ah, that’s gonna be fun.

you’re screwing with me, aren’t you?

you wonder why i am the way i am; well, it’s because of you. pardon me if i say i hate you. fuck, of course i don’t hate you. i just can’t stand the way you make me feel, which, in turn, makes me hate myself, and attempt to hate you. not that it works considering the fact that here we are, doing this yet again. i’ll never really be rid of you, will i? not now, not in a million years. not when you’re married- if you aren’t already, still unknown to me-, not when i’m married, not when you die.

screw it.

what happens if i’ve really lost you, hm? i did nothing about it. i did nothing to help. i just let you slip away and now there’s absolutely nothing left. but then again, was there really anything there to begin with?

ha, i guess now, i’ll never know.

lightbuld:

i hate going to school because i always see people from school there

(via dujardick)

do you think he’s aware of the way he makes me feel?

maybe when he sees me he runs away so quickly out of consideration for me, you know? maybe he says to himself, “the longer i’m around her, the stronger the eye contact i hold or the more words i speak, the more she’s going to be tortured,” so instead of being the inconsiderate ass hole i believe him to be, he’s actually being really quite nice.

because he really does make me feel this way, whether or not he decides to look at me on that particular day, or, god forbid, speak to me. and i hate this dominating power he has over me, and i hate the way i let him have it.