My Story To Tell.

I just want to be loved.

I know everyone wants that and I can't be the only one but honestly..

I just wanna be loved.

Sometimes I find myself sitting on my bedroom floor with a knot in my chest thinking "I just wanna feel loved". And I can't think of anything else but that desperate feeling that only someone who has never felt pure love can understand.

And if you relate to this, I'm sorry.

I used to sit in my room watching the sun come up and think of better days; who would have thought I would only see worse? I sat there and I remember how those white curtains felt as I pulled them away so I watched the early morning rise and the coldness dissipate.

Oh, how ironic. The cold never left my heart, I just got better at hiding it, with a wall made of fire and anguish.

I built it up, just like we built this. Just to watch it go up in flames and disappear. Maybe it wasn't really meant to be, Lord knows I love to make it all seem like a fairy-tale in my head.

And if you can relate to this, I'm sorry.

You tried to change me, you wanted me to be your favourite colour, but I had my favourite too.

My mistake was having white as my favourite, because it is easy to change, it fluctuates. Just a drop of you;

Loving you turned my heart blue.

The only escape I have is this, and sometimes I can't find a way towards the exit. Sometimes the way out is right there, read for me to go, but instead of taking a step forward I take 12 steps back.

Now, can you relate to that?

I keep trying to find a reason. Why do I stick around? Why am I stuck between you and me? I have to choose me, damn it. Perhaps I will, but I always come back, don't I? And I should try to stop apologising but I can't.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry

But do I really mean that?

As the white walls of my room turn red, I feel like I'm suffocating. Were you really my salvation? I keep feeling like I'm drowning. I can't get rise up to the surface, maybe this facade is crumbling?

I keep trying to take a breath but all I get is your cigarette smoke filling up my lungs; there was a time where I thought you made flowers bloom in there, now they feel more like thorns.

I guess I look for love in the wrong places.

I used to think love was red, so I let you paint my room. I want to go back to white, but grey just keeps calling. I'm sorry.

I don't like red anymore.

You promised to hold my hand, now why do I keep reaching for more?

You were my safe place, the warm fire after the stormy forest, the fresh bed after a long night. You were the bright touch on my monochromatic painting.

Now the desert is all I can paint.

If you relate, I'm truly sorry.

No, but really, should I worry? I'm trying to tell my story. I have finally left my room.

I left it a while ago, yet I'm still stuck by the door; 12 steps forward is all it takes.

Maybe I don't have to take any steps at all, what if I collapse on the floor?

I just wanted to feel loved.

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Thank you for your time, all the love. x