But I want more.

I was fine, laughing it out, laughing it off when Mikko is with me, talking to my friends, being happy, enjoying my books, loving my day and then night fell and I was reminded of how the clock tick away the hours so fast when I was on the phone with him and I missed our conversations.

I looked at your photos. I left you a comment and deleted it. I couldn't help myself. I told you a bit of what I wanted to say and then deleted my comment and I know you won't get it because you never check your notifications email, you just delete it like I do if you do check your email.

If letting go is what is good for us, then why do I put on the song that reminds me of us on repeat and sit here in front of my computer, writing, remembering, hoping to be carried away into my book and forget how my phone is silent these days like we both said it would be. If you knew me better, you would see how much pain this is giving me and how I'm trying to play it off. But you don't.

And tonight started out as being a very "So what" day, just having fun and going on being myself, same ol'Stephie, when in between texting others, I saw my phone light up out of the corner of my eye and was far enough to be able to make the familiar right number of characters on it that would have fitted your name and my heart jump. It just jump in happiness when for that one moment I thought it was you.

I thought it was you and when it was another friend of mine, my heart just drop. Just fucking stomp on it and finish the goddamn job because that false hope just hurt.

And I know if I'll call you'll answer. But seeing your facebook and how the girls that comment on their hurts too and it just finishes the job of an already broken heart because I know which ones are the ones who kissed you before and it just pushes me to leave you alone because as much as I try to think I held your heart, I wasn't the only one. Loyalty may hold no bonds with you even though you told me so many times that you're a one girl only type of guy and that you could NEVER even consider an open relationship.

And we've had our discussion about that, me going on about how it takes a special type of trust, a very insanely trust to form an open relationship but I would not considerate it, only if my partner wanted it. All our talks and how we held on as time raced by and now I'm just reminded and I want to so bad to say that 'I don't believe you...'

it looks like you've given up, you've had enough, but I want more...No I won't stop, because I just know you'll come around...right?

right?

no I don't believe you.

but it's happening. so I have to believe it.

Hate hate hate this.

I hate it when emotions sneak up on me. I would absolutely be horrified if this happened anywhere when I was with someone/in public.

I was emailing a friend about Burned by Ellen Hopkins (Just a stunning book). As I was telling her, I remembered that I was reading that when he left me for her. And before I could even blink I was heaving sadness into my hands, cupping my face, my mouth so that no one could hear me.

hate hate hate. I was perfectly fine, happy that she emailed me and then bam, I'm trying to muffle my brief sobs. Why must I remember that? Why. I loved the book and looking back on it, I can remembered how I cling to it. to anything. I remembered how I cling because I couldn't get up. I couldn't do anything. I spent a week lying in bed, sleeping 16 hours a day, only getting up to eat food I didn't find taste. and when I went to the bathroom, it was only to dry heave over the toilet and vomit nothing but a clear white looking like water liquid, trying to vomit the distaste of the whole affair. It was ugly. very ugly. I worried everyone. I lost a lot of weight. I went down from a size 16 to a size 14 in two weeks because I didn't realized I was starving myself. I couldn't eat. I couldn't swallow, I would get nauseous if I ate anything heavier than a yogurt or a banana a day. Yeah that's what I was eating. One banana or one yogurt a day and some water. It was all I could stomach.

Stupid how one thing can bring you down. I clung to that book. I read burned and it took me the whole week, not because it's difficult. it's actually a very fast, very short read. But I've read Burned because I would be reading it and just glazed over whatever I read, I had to go back and concentrate on what I actually read because I didn't know what I read. Or then i would read something and I would have to put the book down because I couldn't go on.

I know if I read it again and I want to. I love Hopkins, it's only going to make me cry.

And I'm sick for still wanting him sometimes. He broke me and I want him back. So strong. so weak. too much. too little.

All I can do is write and wait. wait. wait. for the day that I might be okay, and find a man who will treat me like I am a flower and he is a bee and his world is me.

Where are you, I think I know who you are, prince charming with glasses, and always a good book in sack, prince charming with outdated slang, prince charming, king of the geeks. When are you? because you're not here on my time, with me, when you should be. But you still make me smile. he still holds the ability to make me laugh with his bad jokes and his geek boy manner and maybe that's why I cling to him, when I should just cut my losses and go. live. forget about relationships and just concentrate on reading and writing for the rest of my life. Sounds like a good enough plan to me.

He's in my class

& I crush on him. I shouldn't be. He has a girlfriend. He talks about her all the time. So I ensure to watch myself around him. It's not a heavy crush. It could be, but I keep myself check. I know too well the pain cause by cheating. I will not allow myself to become the other woman. No matter how much he means to me. Even if it meant that it was the person I wanted the most.

I will not be her. I will not taint a relationship. I will not tantalize.

Secrets that no one wants to know.

She had trouble telling the truth. Asking for confessions of others, yet not giving any part of true self. She lived with this knowledge everyday. Smile when all she wanted to do was cry. Never told anyone about the pills she put in her mouth and almost swallow but spit them out. Flush them down in a moment when she felt weak. Never told about the days she said she ate already but in reality had nothing more than maybe some water and a cookie for the whole day. Sometimes it went on for a few days until she felt better about herself and let herself eat because she saw what could be call maybe okay in her reflection. She bites her nails. Her mom says it’s a nasty habit. Her mom doesn't know that if she doesn't do that she will start cutting herself, sometimes she does it anyway. She knows how to make it look like the cat scratch her, that the knife slip, that she got cut by some construction material. Keep the cuts small, like paper cuts. Less noticeable. But most can't tell how deep they are. No one knows that she can't sleep. She goes to bed but just lays there with her eyes closed, trying to daydream herself into pleasant dreamless sleep but most times all she does is stare at the black wall, biting down on her pillow, hoping her sister in the next room won't hear her cry. She doesn't know how she got through some things, she's surprise at herself because see her as this person who's so full of energy and is just happy all the time to the point of being irritating. So happy that people actually love her for it. If only they knew that it was just a front. Depression. At first it wasn't. Lust for life was real, laughing over the silliest things, smiling just because she got an email from a friend saying Hi. So simple how it made her happy. Before she hid behind her books, her words, all the pain and self inflected torture went onto a page so that when she faces her life, there was nothing left of that. But she stopped writing once she met him. She was so damn happy with him. He became her world so quickly so soon. Love him so much she would have done anything. Run away, elope, drop out of school, sacrifice her life to make a new one, a poor one, one fill with labor jobs making minimum wage because she left with him, she didn't care if she did that as long as she made a life with him. Any life with him, even if it included anything against the law. She would do it for him. She loved him and at first it was good, for a long time it was great, beautiful even. He said marriage, she just smiled and said wait because she was so close to getting her next degree. Tried so hard to please him, tried her damnest to make the relationship work even when she knew it was starting to fail. She became lonely. Loneliness in a relationship? That’s not supposed to be there. She got accustomed to that. She let it go. All she could think about was how to get him to stay, to come back to her. She was praying to whom, she didn't know, but it was always the same prayer: "please, don't leave me." So many fights, what happen to the sweet talking? Fights, those weren't there before. Fights, those weren't there before. What were the fights about? The fact that he wasn't there. Dates, phone calls, txts, all disappeared, she was left at home more and more and by herself she knew. She knew. How could she not see how he was changing. How his heart wasn't hers. She denied it. In denial she didn't see how it would be days before she saw him again, days that turn into weeks because he was busy. Even though she knew his schedule, knew when it was their couple time and wonder what he did when it was that time and who was he with. She knew. She saw how protective he became around his phone. Saw the hickeys on his neck that weren't given by her. Denial again, how he said it was a bruise from wrestling his brother, play fighting. Didn't look like no damn bruise. Yet she closed her eyes and deny. deny. deny. hurt. Let herself hurt. Intentionally getting hurt. Fell in the shower a few times. Dislocated the shower doors. Burn herself with the curling iron on "accident". Saw an injury coming in the form of a bruise, a cut, a burn, a graze, and instead of avoiding it, ran towards it. Snuck in front of a car door which open full force onto her with the "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you standing there." No one saw her ruse. Invisible she was again. Not worth anything. Nails bitten, Legs all bruise up, hands with "paper cuts", palms with calluses from working too much fury without stopping. She started not to care. Felt ugly, fat, worthless, just wanted to die. Wanted to open the door in the freeway and let out. Prayed for head on collision. Choke and die. Didn't matter, he didn't care anymore, didn't love her, although he always told her, she was the girl of his dreams. Started to retreat into her room. Lock her door, stay in her cave all the time. Reading, reading online, browsing WebPages, hoping to not remember the pain, anything, still in denial, especially when he would called her at 2 am, and said I love you. Wanted to believe so bad he was telling the truth. Then one night it was over. Everything confirmed. Other women, deception, bullshit, yet she still had his grandmother's gold rings. Promise rings to be together forever. He left. gone. Fury, rage, hate, jealousy, envy, revenge, loneliness, depression, eating disorder, suicide. Suicide? Suicide, hello old friend, welcome home. To everyone she looked like she was doing the right thing. Healing. Getting over him, lost weight, went out with friends, even got a bit of intensity in her, the old flame of experimentation, drinking, smoking, loving both genders, same her. No one knows. She found someone else, but what he didn't know is that it was only pieces of her. Not fair to the new guy. She is a shadow of her former self. All this potential to be, and all she could do was stare at the mirror, see that she was never ever, never will be intelligent, kind, friendly, gentle, carefree, lovely enough for anyone to love her. He still haunts her, in her dreams, she sees him like he was before, wakes up with his kiss on her lips. Wakes up breathing pain. Can't even walk, feels nauseous, might puke like she does some days when she can't stomach the fact that he's gone and is holding other girls and other girls are holding him in their arms like she use to hold him. Can’t face the fact that when he broke down from the fact that he fucked up and fucked over his first love, he broke down in someone else’s arms, not hers, like it should have been. Self-Inflicted hurt, pain, might bring her back to the reality, might release her soul. Might as well end it now before she hurts someone else aside from herself. ....