I\'m the maybe in the yes or no option. I\'m the one you think you want until you walk away and realise how much better everything is without me. I wanna be on a ride away from here but I have nothing else but this window and these thoughts to call home. I wish to grow up and do something more than cry on a godforsaken windowsill in the middle of the night.
I imagine what it\'s like to be someone else. To live my life and do what I love. I watch the planes fly and imagine being in them, I imagine being away and the relief of coming home, I wonder if you\'re coming home. If you do, will you have forgotten me? I asked you to remember me but never said how to. Will I be the person you saw and hated or the person you loved and left?
I took it for granted, our time together. I pretended not to care but here I am on the windowsill crying over the planes flying and the cars driving past. I don\'t know when to go back to bed, when I\'m pouring emotions and when am I forcing myself to think of you. It\'s nice here with the window open, calm and cold. It reminds me of the tent. Where we lay in each others arms and talked nonsense and slept. I was so afraid by human contact that I flinched enough to get your hand off mine in my sleep.
I can\'t even see this page and I know I won\'t be able to read it in the morning. I\'ll probably forget. This will just be another forgotten memory in time and space. Where we don\'t matter and we can\'t see each other. Where you confuse me.
It all lead up to this, didn\'t it? We lead to heartbreak. The greatest love story. A poetic tragedy we learned to live through. That I hope I\'ll live through. One I hope neither of us forget.
You see, you were my normal, I can\'t replace that. But you can replace me. Find another suicidal love that will write poetry about you in the middle of the night when you leave. I hope they write until their hand cramps up. They won\'t write about the past though. They\'ll write about your future that I probably won\'t be in.
Eventually you\'ll stop visiting or maybe you won\'t at all. You\'ll forget. I probably will too. I mean, we didn\'t stand a chance. We\'re like a star. A beautiful burning flame you only see when it\'s dead.
Loved and forgotten.
Maybe you\'ll think of me sometime and cry, or laugh, or both. Maybe you\'ll watch the planes and imagine coming home. Please come home, meet me at my window at 1 in the morning. I\'ll bring you coffee, like you bought for me every time you had enough money. Maybe you won\'t come to me with a problem. Maybe I am the problem. Maybe all I\'ll ever be good at is writing stupid emotions on a page.
I don\'t even remember what I wrote. Maybe one day. I\'ll write in the dark cold until my nose runs. I\'ll write these stupid things. Memories to be forgotten. Clouds that pass me now, never to been seen again, only as rain water we run to take cover from. Memories you\'ll want to forget. That you wish you could remember. A story not to tell the grandchildren.
A stupid teen story. Will you think of me when you\'re sad and lonely to cry or laugh. Or will you even think of me at all.