Diary of a Dying Girl (Pt. 4)

Entry Four

Diary of a Dying Girl (Pt. 4)


I've loved you for so long that even my bones remember. It's about time that I write about you.

You are a movement, an entire emotion. It's overwhelming to think about you. And I've told my lies about us, I know. And what I can't understand is why you unknowingly play right into them. I'm wrong in so many ways, but I've buried it. And I think the recipients of my tall tales have long forgotten.

You were all I knew when I was young. You mispronounced my name the first time it was asked of you, and that about crushed me. But now, you call it out in crowds of people: searching for me, asking about me, greeting me when I walk into a room. Some days I hope that you are as connected to me as I am to you.

I'm happy that you think about me. I hope that I'm unforgettable.

But I have absolutely no feelings for you. And that's strange, since I know that I will always love you. You weren't the first, but hell, you were the greatest. Our physical nature never went further than a hug or joined hands for only a moment. And oddly enough, I'm happy about it. Sometimes I think that the real thing would've destroyed my idea of you.

My musician, my golden boy, my best love, my brightest light, my greatest treasure, my sidekick, my everything, there is no forgetting you. Even if we never return to being as close as we used to be, I will still look at your life through the proudest of eyes. I love to watch you grow and progress and become. You are capable of insurmountable things, and I hope one day you believe it.

I love you always. The thing I hope to say to you one day when it won't cause trouble. But even if I said it once, I don't think I'd be able to stop or say it enough.

I could write a book about you and you alone. I just might one day.

Being a dying girl finally gives me the chance to say what I feel, and this is it. I will never love another man like I loved you. I may love them better, I may love them different, I may love them more, but never, ever the same.

I want to thank you, for giving me some of your smiles, for laughing with me, for trusting me, for loving me back in your own way. I suspect that it didn't run as deep as mine, but I don't care. No one else really has the capacity to love as I do anyway.

There is strange freedom in letting go of the fantasy of having you. I held onto it for so many years, because I feared to lose you. I've even begun to believe that the time I spent claiming "feelings" was coming more from a place of fear rather than interest. You meant so much to me, that I was terrified of what life would look like without you in it. And in my head at the time, it made more sense to say that I was falling for you, rather than just admitting that you were something I couldn't bear to lose. My affinity to you was too much for anyone to ever understand.

My love is redirected but remains unchanged. You're it for me in more ways than one. I've released my grip because I know that you were never meant to be my 'forever'. And in truth, I never wanted you to be.

So here's to friendship and a connection that only you and I will ever understand. I love you, remember that. And I will ALWAYS write the sun in for you.

Now please, break up with your trashy girlfriend, stop smoking, and focus on your music. Do what you were created to do. You are far too beautiful to go to waste.

How does it work?
Read next: 'Chocolate Kisses'
Diary Of A Dying Girl

 Synesthetic. Chaotic. Bothered. instagram : @ofadyinggirl twitter: dyinggirl3

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