He hates you. When I flinch as he reaches for my hand because the touch is unfamiliar, he knows. When I hear music you use to play for me and can’t look him in the eye, he knows. When he tries to make me happy and can tell that theres a part of me he just cant fill, he knows. He knows its you, you broke me and he hates you for that, and he hates that he can’t be the one to make me whole. He knows only you can, and he hates you for that. I hate you for that.
This is how you lose her.
You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.
You must remember when she forgets.
You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention.
She remembers when you forget.
You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.
You must learn her.
You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.
You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.
And, this is how you keep her.
I just want to read books, cuddle with the person I love, watch sunsets, go out on random road trips, stay up all night just talking on the phone with an old friend, going to the beach and drawing in the sand, eating in all sorts of family run shops, travel an watch how others live and breathe, I just want to take the world in for all that it has.
When I had him on my bed all I could think of was you. I hated the way he laid in the spot you always did as if he was the only one who’d ever been there, when he knew that he was not. The first time I ever had him in my car I put on your favorite band, and he couldn’t understand why it made me so upset when he tried to change the song. Whenever he had his hands on my hips and his lips pressed to my ear, I couldn’t listen to what he was whispering because the chill it sent down my spine made me crave your hands on my thighs. Once he told me that he loved me, I didn’t say it back. Instead, I bit my tongue and reminded him that he was drunk. Just like you always did to me.
I always wished that he was you but I hated him when he was (via instanit-y)
I won’t beg someone to love me. I learned long ago that there is no use in hopeless pleas of trying to make someone stay. I am too good to chase someone who does not know my worth and I am too wild to keep waiting for someone who doesn’t acknowledge my value. I want to be loved unconditionally. I shouldn’t have to fight so hard for it. I do not have the time to prove to someone that I am worth it. I shouldn’t have to prove any of that; I am worth more than that.

Ming D. Liu, A Story A Day #138 

(via hardcore)