The Quiet Thoughts of an Overactive Mind

[Sugar and Spite]

"Do I really have to spell it out for you? You - the man who claims to know literally everything. Are you seriously that clueless?"

Beautiful, he thought. The anger laced through every word coming from her honeyed lips. The desperation and ferocity in her eyes - drop. dead. gorgeous.

"I'm in love with you. Okay. There. That's it," she said, her chest rising and falling at a quick rate as she struggled for air. "You're like an addiction. A drug. Meth, or heroine, or freaking crack cocaine. I didn't want you. I didn't want this. But now it's all I can think about. Your in my dreams. I replay our conversations over and over in my head and even when I don't want to think of you - I still do!"

He raised the glass to his lips, tasting the deliciousness of his favorite cabernet. She was on edge, and he absolutely adored it. The angry tears pooling in her eyes were nothing short of mesmerizing. The desperation in her voice was everything that he had hoped it would be and more. How could something so small be so pissed off?

"Could you flipping say something she spat through gritted teeth.

He relaxed further into the leather chair.

"Sounds like a personal problem.

[Sugar and Spite]

Someone take me back to fifteen.

Back to the nights where I stayed up until three am, listening to Icon For Hire and writing shitty characters on my first ever RP site.
Back to the people. The friends. The memories. The hugs in the school hallway. The pinky promises in the back of the class. The written vow that all of us would return after summer. The slow walks to the bus in the May thunderstorms as we pushed each other into the puddles.

Back to when mom wasn't so sad and dad wasn't so stressed.

Back to when I believed in love. Back to when my biggest problem was the 7 page essay due in two days that I had procrastinated for months on end. Back to when high school was my only nightmare. Back to when everything was material. Back to when the decisions I made didn't make or break me.

Back to when I looked forward to becoming an adult and didn't think of it as another prison. Back to when friends were friends and the conversations came easy. Back to when the people who I wanted to care - cared. Back to when I went to sleep before five in the morning.

Back to when life was a little less complicated.

[Sugar and Spite]

“What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want your so called love, or your heart. I don’t want you to take me home to meet your parents. No, what I want from you is your time. Your attention. Your secrets. Your darkest desires. I want to be the one that you come to when you're feeling down, or when you’re angry. I want to be the one to be there when you smile your most genuine smiles, and laugh your most genuine laughs. I want to be the one to be there when you cry. Not because I like to see you sad, but because it would be nice to know that you trusted me that much. I want to be…. I don’t know what I want to be. Your friend? Your confidant? I really don’t know.”

“I just want to mean something to you. One moment you’re here, and the next you’re gone. One day, we’ll talk for hours, and then we won’t for weeks at a time. You act like I mean something to you, but then you talk to me as if you can’t stand me. I don’t want anything from you but a freaking explanation.”

“I need to know what I am to you. I need to know because you mean so much to me. I need to know because I seem to care too much, where as you don’t care at all. So what’s the point in me caring, if you don’t? What the point of me getting all worked up and worried if you’re okay or not when you disappear? What the point in me having you on my mind when you don’t ever stop to think about me? What’s the point in me caring if you don’t care at all?”

[Sugar and Spite]

_{I hope you're happy
I hope you're good
I hope you get what you wish for
And you're well understood
________________}

[Sugar and Spite]

Thank you.

Thank you for all of the nights you stayed up with me until three am for no reason.

Thank you for all of the days we spent making memories.

Thank you for encouraging me to do the things I love.

Thank you for showing me that I deserve love, happiness, and all of the good things in life.

Thank you for giving me songs that make me think of you.

Thank you for being a good person.

Thank you for listening.

Thank you for being by my side.

Thank you for loving me, no matter how hard I made it.

Thank you for helping me during the times when no one else cared to.

Thank you for helping shape me into the person I am today.

Thank you.

[Sugar and Spite]

"You reached for another bottle of gin,
and I'm sorry that I treated it like a sin.
But you judged a boy named Tim,
when you were just the same as him."

[Sugar and Spite]

Depressing blurb. Do not open. It's a shitty ramble.

There's so much that I can remember that I'd like to forget.

Your messy hair and crooked smile; the sound of your laugh, and the way your eyes lit up when you talked about the things that you loved. I remember the way you handled the smallest things with care, and the way that your mind worked - layers upon beautiful layers.

I remember the nights that we played in the rain, and counted the stars. The days by the river as you described 'the golden hour' and we watched the pink chase the blue while the sun set.

Cotton Candy skies - I would have sworn they were decorated just for me and you.

We took turns filling each others cups - tequila in mine, and gin in yours. You thought you were so sophisticated with that glass in your hand. When it wasn't liquor it was smoke, and if there wasn't any of that we never spoke. I can't help but remember how the only times you said I beautiful... were when I wasn't sober.

I remember the night you told me you wanted me to make you a father. We had just moved into your aunts place, and we were in the shower. It was the first and only time you washed my hair, and I don't even remember how we were standing from being so drunk - But I remember that you said you wanted me to make you a father.

"He'd have our eyes," you said.

"And your humor," I laughed. Then after a moment: "So a boy?"

"Our boy," you sighed.

We were drunk, and the sun was coming up. The birds were singing through the window, and it all seemed like a daydream - but I remember.

I remember that there was a boy, who wound up being my best friend. A boy who loved life and showed me how to live without fear. A boy who lived so unabashedly he left the rest of the world in awe. I remember how the boy cared and loved. I remember how the boy turned into a stranger, and all of the reasons that I shouldn't love him. All of the reasons that I don't. But I still remember Cotton Candy Skies, and mornings in the shower, and drunken nights staring at the stars.

I still remember you, and I think it's giving me brain damage.

[Sugar and Spite]

My relationship with my mother is a complicated one; a double edge sword forced into my hands that has always been to much for me to carry.

Caught somewhere between friend and foe, daughter and mother, friend and parent, dark and light, trauma and healing. The past and the present, both to scared to look towards the future.

I look at my mother and I see a girl - a seven year old with blond hair, blue eyes and pigtails. A little girl who never wanted anything but to be loved. A child who's innocence was taken to soon.

I look at my mother and I see a woman. A woman I helped raise. A woman who refuses to accept accountability and instead wallows in her own pity.

My relationship with my mother is a double edge sword; Caught somewhere between love and hate.

A constant reminder of everything I wish to be, and everything I should never become.

[Sugar and Spite]

I threw the flower petals away today.

You never knew about them, but I kept them all in a jar on the top shelf of my old closet at my mother's place.

You used to joke an laugh every time you brought over a bundle - "why do I get these for you? They just die anyway?" And you were right.

But I saved the petals. Each and everyone, every single time.

I thought that we could use them on our wedding day. Give them to the flower girl and watch as she scattered memories of our love story down the isle, leading us all to one of the greatest chapters.

Now they're in the trash.

I picked each of them out one by one, replaying a memory every time I pulled another one from their safety.

The river, the lake, the beach, the hillside and the stars. Your eyes, laugh, and the freckles on your shoulders. Your brothers birthday, your mothers favorite song.

I forgot them all by the time I reached the bottom of the jar. I watched them each fall into the trash, right along with myself and all of the other broken things you don't want anymore. With each petal, I let more and more fade with them.

I threw away the flower petals today.

I finally let you go.