You don’t know me.

Please stop pretending that you do.

-a conversation with my brain

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Me and my (dangerous) thoughts

7:33 PM I think of you and the thousands of possibilities of seeing you tomorrow and the days after that. Or maybe in the afterlife. Or in alternate universes. (Will we end up together anyway?)

8:05 PM Why does he love me? I don’t think I deserve him. He’s too amazing. Oh God. What if he likes another girl? What if she’s prettier than me? Fuck. I’m not even pretty. (Out of the 7 billion people in the world, why me?)

8:17 PM I’m so flawed. I have ugly parts that I wouldn’t want you to see. (Will you still love me when you wake up in the morning?)

8:22 PM I love you enough to show you the things I’m so insecure about. The things that I don’t even like about myself. The things I’d do anything to change them. (I hope you won’t change your mind once you see me)

9:42 PM I’m beyond thankful. I have you. You love all the sides, crevices and dirt that make me…ME. (Why? How?)

9:59 PM I’m absolutely sure that I am in love you. (This I will never question.)

10:17 PM God. I miss him. I just want to see his face. Hear his voice. Run my hands through his hair. I swear that if this is the last day of my life, I’d wish to see his eyes before I die. (Please don’t leave me.)

10:34 PM What am I doing? I wonder if he’s dreaming of me right now? Has he ever dreamed of someone else? Has he ever wanted someone just as bad? (God. How can I be so possessive over you?)

10:40 PM I upset myself over thoughts of the past. Mine and his. (I hope I can erase your past and mine and live in the idea of just you and I; the perfect fairytale story)

11:02 PM Yes. I think about the sweet things you’ve said to girls before. And I hate how jealous I get over your past relationships. I hate how hypocritical my thoughts are. I hate how badly I want to be the first. I hate that I need to be reassured Every. Damn. Day. that you are mine. And I am yours. (I’m sorry.)

12:05 PM I’m scared. (I always will be.)

12:15 PM Oh, the things I would do for you. (Anything and everything)

12:46 PM I’m insane. You don’t care. I love you. (Thank you.)

For You #1

#ThrowbackThursday to my very first letter to you.
I don’t believe that I write well. But I will try, for you, hippo.
I’m writing this because I want you to know that I write only for people who I care about so much. So much that I want to let the world know about it.
You are the second person who meant this much to me. (Our current
situation isn’t very ideal since we’re so far from each other. But I don’t care because you’re so fucking important to me and I don’t know what life would be without you.)
The second person who I want to write cheesy things (like this letter) for.
(Yes, prepare yourself for shitty poems and letters that I will write for you.)
The second person who I look forward to talking to every single day. (I can live without talking to anyone else but just you, to be honest.)
The second person who I cannot stop thinking about. (You, sir, dominate my thoughts. You’re all I think about.)
The second person who makes me want to fall in love all over again. (You make me believe in second chances, soulmates, and fate.)
You are the second one.
You are the second.
You are THE one.
My heart was broken. I believe that it still is. With your help, it’s slowly healing. It is opening its doors again, little by little. Just know that by the time that I’m ready, I will love you completely and irrevocably. I promise I won’t be like your first and second. I promise I’ll try to be your third and last.
Please don’t feel bad that you are  the second person I felt this way about. Please don’t feel unimportant because I refer to you as the “second person”. Because believe me, you may be the second, but you are the one I want and hope and wish will be the last.
There is so much more that I want to tell you. So much more that you need to hear. I’ll save them for later.
Yours forever and always,
Pam
Update:  We’re almost on our third month of being a couple. I love you 🙂

I always expect a LOT from people. Yet they never fail to disappoint.

Is it me? Do I create my own disappointments?

Maybe.

I should never EVER expect to be treated the same way that I treat them. But I can’t help it if there’s a teeny tiny bit of myself that hopes they’ll realize my worth.

(p)