Little Motel

I know I haven’t seen you in years, and I know the last time I had it wasn’t on the best terms… all I can say now is that I hope your happy in your own personal hell.

I had nothing but the utmost faith in you, nothing but kindness and consideration in the deepest pits of my heart, but constantly you would threw these feelings back at me—calling me naive, foolish, and too hopeful. If there’s anything I ever been its hopeful, and it’s understandable that this isn’t always the most attractive quality in a person. Often times it leads to unrealistic delusions of grandeur, but there needs to be someone that holds steadily to those feelings, otherwise we’re both sinking ships passing in the night.

I know that you have it in you to be something so much more, something stronger; but I also know the amount of effort and painstaking work that is involved in order to ensure this self-reality. It doesn’t mean that it’s a thought that should be dismissed with a casual scoff. You’ve said that I never knew you and that even more so I wouldn’t know you now, but that’s a claim only you can hold on to. You’re not as deep a person as you would hope. Your feelings are worn clearly on your sleeves, and your emotions are strewn about the memories we once held dearly onto, everything was clear and everything was easy to read.

I know you live deep within a state of sorrow; I can recognize this much as I have constantly been fighting to get out of mine. Birds of feather, not only flock together, but we can also see the worlds of one another. I’ve never been difficult to understand, my intentions were always things you could read, if not been told—this hasn’t made life easier, but at the very least I’ve hoped its been made at least a little more understandable.