We've been through a lot, an awful lot this year. I don't think either of us expected what happened to happen. In a way, it was a great because with you, I feel like I'm me. I'm not putting on a front or trying to impress you. I'm just my dorky self. Me and my 32A boobs, skinny vanilla bum, melted makeup and smelly greasy hair. All 100% me. I know I can never be anything like Lana, but I've always wanted to know.. Why me? I'm really not anything like your dream girl. Nothing like your "wife-to-be". Why did you have to act so content with me? So at ease? I can't say it was love between us, but all I can say is that whenever you lean into kiss me, I smile before your lips even touch mine. You made me feel so special. I felt like I existed on this world but not just for me, I felt like a reason that made someone happy. But I'm guessing I wasn't a reason that made you happy... But I would like to believe and I will keep on believing that I at least made you smile.
I don't expect anything else to happen now. If anything were to happen, it would have happened. Does this mean we're friends? We were never ever friends. Being just "friends", has been a difficult term for us. We've struggled a lot with that word. Never finding a compromising definition but I genuinely hope we can be friends forever. I guess being together didn't quite work out for us. We just aren't destined to be. I thought we fitted together like well? But in a weird way. We are like so different, but the differences meant we got to know and learn about each other. Like, even though you are like a hardcore stoner who just doesn't give two shits, you were my loser. I guess you're also not used to being with a young, naive girl who still listens to trashy pop music and likes to twerk in clubs, piss drunk. But together, I thought we worked.. For a bit anyway.
I don't know why but little tears keep creeping out as I type this blog and I don't know why my heart aches and feels uncomfortable as I tell myself the truth. The truth that we're all in the past now. History. I even managed to admit it all to my mum the other day. I felt so so sheepishly smug to have told my mum all about you. How you're Portuguese, how you're one of the boys, how we've been on and off for this whole year, your piercings, your tattoos, why you're leaving England, how you've made me cry multiple times and how you've broken my heart so many times. It made us seem real. Like it all actually happened. I don't know why I seem to hope for some romantic ending between us. I really don't know why but my heart won't let go of it. Seeing Gloria and Eric together, I'm genuinely happy for them. They're sweet. We could have had all that; that's what pisses me off the most.
But instead I'm waiting for you to say goodbye to me. I don't think I can open up to anyone soon. They aren't on my menu. You are. I just want you to tell me this is all a joke. That you will stay by my side through this summer and until the end of uni. You to cuddle up to me in bed as I nurse these hangovers and early mornings. I want you to play with my hair and kiss me as you listen to me talk about a lot of shit. I want you to carry on kicking my legs and patting the duvet to check I haven't run away. I want you to sleepily wake me up to turn off my alarm that's blasting loud noises next to my face. I want to be able to wake up to see your face or just be able to stare at your face, as I wait for you to wake up.
Please don't go. If you read this, would you reconsider everything? I hope you wouldn't because you need to do what is best for you. What makes you smile. And I'm sure a little asian girl like me, would definitely not have this influence on you. Never. I don't mean anything to you.
