Things I Could Never Tell You

182, 183, 184

Text #182. 

June 26, 8:32 pm.

Guess who's downstairs sitting down in the porch and calling me nonstop? Yeah, Cameron. Since yesterday, he has been calling me basically every minute. I want to answer him. I really do. But whenever I try to put myself to answer any of his texts, I keep thinking about you. You. I keep thinking that all people who said that they wouldn't leave me, left. I'm absolutely and utterly weird in any kind of relationships. I don't know exactly how to act, what to say; so I close myself to any kind of connection. Because I don't think I've found someone worth getting hurt for yet. 

Text #183.

June 27, 9:06 pm.

I wish I left things at hello with you. I wished I could just walk away on the moment I first saw you. I think that us, as humans, we tend to get expectations way too high. And that is the root of all heartache. We can sometimes destroy everything we touch, including ourselves and the people around us. You practically stabbed me behind my back and then asked me why I was bleeding. But perhaps it was my fault also. I was stupid enough to put myself out there. I was stupid enough to believe that we would just be friends forever and that maybe one day, you'd see me as someone more than that. But I am so sick and tired of talking about pain. Of talking about sadness and especially, of talking about you. I really don't expect at all to meet the guy of my dreams and get a happily ever after. And I need to understand the fact that Cameron may look like you. He may have the same hair as yours. The same skin color, height or whatever. But he is not you. Cameron is someone and you are someone totally different. And that's something I tend to keep on my mind. 

Text #184.

June 28, 10:23 am.

I really don't know when this happened, but I just feel like this is a way that I found to vent it all out. I tell myself that someone out there reads this, but I know it's not true, so it makes me feel safe writing here. It's kind of contradictory, but I feel like myself when I write here. It's like the person you were was reading this, and this way, I can tell everything I feel to a friend. Even if this friend is long gone and kind of imaginary.