The hardest part

My eyes filled with smiles everytime I saw his headlights just a mile ahead, heart racing, palms drenched. How he made my heart skip a beat and my body tremble ill never understand. It was a love/hate kind of thing. I loved him but I hated that he was split into two different facades. I loved his lips but I hated I shared them with another. I loved his singing but I hated knowing I may not be the only one who was serenaded. I loved being his Christmas lights but I hated not knowing when the glimmer would fade.

But the hardest part, the part that I hated most was,

I was born to be the other woman.

The one who belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.

Who had nothing, who wanted everything, with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn’t even talk about it.

In his world I would pay for normal with him any day of the week. But in our world I craved the chaotic wickedness of it all, the love and the sacrifice, the imbalance of all the toxic chemicals we had flowing in between. The hardest part was watching him live and watching me die.

 

 

Credit to Lana del rey and a quote used from her song ride.

Dedicated to RM

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