Organized Mess

I've almost run out of cigarettes, I'm listening to one of the saddest songs ever (New American Classic by Taking Back Sunday) and I got an urge to blog.

Blog about what? I don't know.

I said I was going to end it. I don't want to but it just hurts so much to miss someone. Especially if you know that they're still in the bloody country as you, yet still too fucking far away. I just came back from another country and the entire time I was there I missed him on a whole new level. Not the kind where I would let anyone and everyone know just how much I wanted to be in his presence again, but the kind where I couldn't really talk about it. I could never find the right words to say, so I just kept quiet and tried to live with it. "It" being a dull ache that never went away.

And now I'm back here, and I still miss him.

I'm not a liar. I really won't say "I love you" to a guy unless I actually do. I don't get jealous unless the guy really means something to me. Just trust THAT fact if you don't want to believe me when I say I care. Can I keep you? You know I want to. That's why I couldn't end it. Because you said I'm yours and I am. It's funny how you said you still don't know if I do love you. I should be the one that's unsure who loves who. You could say "I love you" a million times and I don't think I'd ever be fully certain you mean what you say. Maybe because I'm just too scared to believe only to be let down...again. I don't want to hurt anymore, and I'm sick of being left behind. I'm scared of missing you even more than I already do when you (eventually) go away. I'm scared of the dull aching that's not gonna fade.

It's stupid to keep holding on while I still can hold on, isn't it? But I never said I was the smartest person alive.

Down to my last cigarette. And then sleep. I love you, boo.