This wasn't supposed to happen.


How did we get here? How did I end up needing you so much, needing your voice and your thoughts and your body next to mine?
How can one phone call, a few simple words, leave me in tears, leave me hurting and feeling like this?


I let you in, so much. You have this huge peice of me, basically all of me, that you could shatter and destroy at any point in time. And most days, I love that you have that much of me. But right now, in this moment, when I'm seeing how fragile things are and how this is going to be hard some days, not because of us but because of other people, im afraid.

relationships are so important to me, theyre everything. and i know they are for you also, but you have to understand that what he says matters.
i cant go to your house and see him glaring at me always, and know that he wishes you werent hanging out with me.
i cant do it.



asdjflsajglkjgvzxcnvm,xvcznod


i really love you, i do.

http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"> name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11">

            Somedays I wake up and I expect you to be there. Your tall, lean frame in the doorway with that little half smile of yours, your hair flopping over your eyes. I expect you to push your hair behind your ears, chuckle at little at your thoughts, and spring up from against the door. “Silly Kir,” you’ll say, and then you’ll turn back around and walk out of my room.

            But then I remember. I remember where you are now, and I remember what’s happened since then. I remember that I’m wearing the same shirt as yesterday, and the day before. I remember that I stink of alcohol, and that I haven’t brushed my hair in a few days.

            On the days that I think about you, I manage to get out of bed. I shower, pull on a pair of jeans and a sweater. I brush my teeth; I grab a couple dollars out of Dad’s wallet. I make it outside, and then I see. I see that things haven’t changed, and I head back inside until it turns dark.

            We used to sit on the roof at night, seeing who could go up higher. You always could. You used to look into my eyes with your baby blues and I remember heading “Kira, don’t you ever let anyone tell you what you can do. Push the limits, do what you think you can’t.”

            That night, you jumped off the roof. You landed in the bushes, practically unharmed. But that moment, when you finished your sentence and ran for the edge, I shook with fear. I didn’t let you see it. I stayed cool, I threw my head back and laughed. But you propelled yourself from that roof, and I thought you were crazy. I would never push limits like you did.

            You brought home girls. You attracted them, you were a light and they were moths. You brought home the wispy kind; thin, frail, and clingy. I never liked them, and they knew it. I cowered in the corner, letting my hair fall in front of my face and watching you with them. You didn’t chuckle; you didn’t voice your opinion. You shot them looks, you played it cool.

            I learned from you, later. I’m 17 now, did you know that? I can drive boys crazy, that’s one think I can do. I know that I’m pretty, and I made sure I wasn’t frail and clingy. I’ve slept with boys; I’ve slept with men. I’ve made them cry my name, I’ve walked out on them. I can make them fall at my feet if I want to, but usually I don’t want them to.

            When we were younger, you used to take me to the zoo. Do you remember? You would hold my hand, sticky with cotton candy. You knew even then who I was, that I wasn’t supposed to be in that house. But you loved me all the same. When I got tired, you’d pick me up and make sure we kept going. You put me on your shoulders so we could figure out the subway route, you precisely counted out the dollar bills in your little boy hands. You took care of me. When it was my turn to return the favor, I failed.

            Every day, that failure haunts me. All I can think about is that you needed me, and I wasn’t there.

            I’m sorry Kyle. I really am.

 

Since I last left you all, my life has been going down hill.


A message I sent to my bet friend who moved out of the country last year:


things just seem to be going wrong for me, but it might be my fault.

N isn't trying all that hard to be friends anymore. this started at the beginning of the year, but especially now that i quit yearbook. i miss him, but hes so preoccupied with his life and with T(?) that it's like he doesnt have time for me and he doesnt care about me.

im in like, in the process of falling for a guy who doesnt care about me at all. for him, im fun, im another girl who will tell him hes adorable and boost his ego. i cant help it, but im losing some of myself while im trying to be what he wants

im becoming someone you would hate. someone you wouldn't want to hang out. im making all the wrong decisions, enjoying it at the time, and regretting it later. i need you, but im afraid of your judgement and disappointing you and everyone else.

i have no idea what im doing with my life at all.


______________________________________________________________________________________

im screwing up. i need someone to care about me enough to tell me what im doing is wrong, instead of these friends who go out with me every weekend and go out and make stupid decisions and encourage me to do things i wouldnt normally do.
i need help, and thats so hard for me to admit.


ill be back, xanga, ill be back.
but ill be a better version of me.