The Secret Website
You still like her, goddamit!
I can't stand her right now. Because I can't understand, how the hell did she steal your heart?
I'm not even gonna say how much this is hurting me.
When we went to that pub, yesterday night, and you saw her, oh gosh, you should've seen yourself. We were late, we had to go home, but what did you do? You begged me to stay because you just wanted to look at her. Not even talk to her, fuck. Just staring at her was enough for you. But for me? Had you even thought about me? I don't think so.
All you were doing was admiring her. While I was admiring your eyes, full of love. For someone else, all right, but still... and watching you, I thought.
I thought about all the times I've seen you so happy. Truly happy.
I thought about all the times I've seen you pretend to be happy, to hide the pain. Those time you looked so much like me.
I thought about all the times I've seen you cry. That means, never. I've never seen you cry. Not one single time.
You're so strong. You never cry in front of me. All the times I have cried in front of you. And you were always there to cheer me up. You were and are my shoulder to lean on.
But I know that, after all, I've made you suffer, too. I hurt you, so many times.
Do you remember that "test" you posted on your MySpace, when we were teenagers? There was one question: >>Is there something you want to tell me which you never told me?<<
And I answered, "yes. But I can't tell you." We talked so much about this "secret thing" that I'll tell you one day. I said I'd tell you at 80 years old, joking. But you said, no, let's make it at 40. And I said, well, at 20! And we laughed about it, right then.
But our 20s have passed, and I never told you. I remember telling you over the phone, how much it hurts, not telling you this "thing". Because I knew that if I ever let it slip, you'd just turn your back on me, you'd go away, never to come back. Because, I repeat, you're fucking straight.
You're not homophobe, and I'm glad, though you always say "gay guys freak me out".
And that night, over the phone, when I talked to you about how much it hurts, and about the nightmares I have, in which you turn around and walk away. And I wake up crying. Every fucking night.
That night... That was the night I made you cry. You tried to cover it up, but your voice betrayed you. I can tell when someone's crying. Because your voice trembles, you can't talk. I knew you were crying.
I never asked you afterwards, if you really were, because I knew you were, but you'd never admit it.
So, now I know this hurts you too. Knowing I'm hurting because of this "thing", because of my fear, of my nightmares, of you walking away.
You know I'm afraid. I'm scared. Of so many things. But first of all, I don't want to lose you. That's why I get mad at you every time you get drunk. You go out and get drunk, and you don't care about anything else but the fun you're having in that pub.
But last night, at that pub, you didn't get drunk. Because I was there, probably. But then I saw her. And I understood.
You didn't want to get drunk and make a fool of yourself in front of her, did you?
And still, I was watching you, as you looked at her. And I wanted to go away. I was jelaous. Hell, I was.
But you were begging me to stay. You know I can't say no to you, you were fucking begging me! But this time, I wouldn't let go. I wanted to go home alone, if that's what it takes to make you understand I didn't want to be there.
And what did you do? You began to act all gay on me, hugging me and still begging me "Please, don't go, let's stay" but were you even looking at me? NO!
"Don't go" you kept saying, your hands behind my back, trying not to look at her but at me, even trying to kiss my cheeks and act all gay and cheesy, thinking I'd say yes. You obviously thought that would work, didn't you?
But I fought off the butterflies you were giving me, I didn't think about the shivers your hands caused on me, and walked away.
So you gave up and followed me, but... too late, I was already mad at you.
You never understand. You're so in love with her, I'll never be able to tell you MY feelings.
I asked you once, we were 16: "Have you ever been truly in love?"
It took you half a minute to answer. The longest 30 seconds of my life. But you said no. I knew you would. "And you?" you asked.
I waited. Trying to recall all of our memories, and the feelings I had for you, trying to understand what they were.
"Yes." I said. And, when asked who was the one I was in love with, I didn't answer. Couldn't tell you that it was you, could I? So I shrugged it off.
"You know, it hurts so much, when you love someone but you can never be with them, because that love is wrong, and you know they will never love you back, you know that it's an impossible love, but you can't help the way you're feeling."
This was my answer to you. You looked at me, or at what you could see of me, in the dark that surrounded us that night. You didn't say anything for a while. Then you said "You're right..."
And those were your last words for that day, because I had to go home, and those silences between us that night, made me think so much.
That night, was probably the best/worst of my teenage life.
We watched "Wild Wild West" at your place. And when the film finished, and the TV turned itself off after 5 minutes (I love technology!) we were left in the dark. We began talking. About ourselves and our personalities. You're way more outgoing than me, you make friends faster and easily. While me. I'm the shy one. But when I get to know someone, when I know I can trust them, I open my heart to them. I haven't got many friends, and you have plenty.
Oh, I remember that night. You were crying again. But it was dark, so you thought I couldn't see you. But I could hear your voice, again.
After a good half hour spent in complete silence, you laid back on the couch, with your head on my legs. And I stroke your hair, moving them from your eyes, so I could see them glinting in the dark, but not looking at me. What were you thinkin, back then?
I held your hand, and kept stroking your hair, I could've stayed there forver. You weren't even complaining, I think you were actually kind of enjoying it. So many unspoken things between us...
What were you thinking, that night?
BJ
xoxo
Another random post of mine... with another comment!!
Hey BJ, told you I'd come back.
So here I am, telling you that I understand. Oh yes I do. It... kind of happened to me too, actually, it's weird.
I repeat, don't give up. Be strong.
This Stranger here, will be thinking of you.
x-Stranger-x
I'm not even gonna say how much this is hurting me.
When we went to that pub, yesterday night, and you saw her, oh gosh, you should've seen yourself. We were late, we had to go home, but what did you do? You begged me to stay because you just wanted to look at her. Not even talk to her, fuck. Just staring at her was enough for you. But for me? Had you even thought about me? I don't think so.
All you were doing was admiring her. While I was admiring your eyes, full of love. For someone else, all right, but still... and watching you, I thought.
I thought about all the times I've seen you so happy. Truly happy.
I thought about all the times I've seen you pretend to be happy, to hide the pain. Those time you looked so much like me.
I thought about all the times I've seen you cry. That means, never. I've never seen you cry. Not one single time.
You're so strong. You never cry in front of me. All the times I have cried in front of you. And you were always there to cheer me up. You were and are my shoulder to lean on.
But I know that, after all, I've made you suffer, too. I hurt you, so many times.
Do you remember that "test" you posted on your MySpace, when we were teenagers? There was one question: >>Is there something you want to tell me which you never told me?<<
And I answered, "yes. But I can't tell you." We talked so much about this "secret thing" that I'll tell you one day. I said I'd tell you at 80 years old, joking. But you said, no, let's make it at 40. And I said, well, at 20! And we laughed about it, right then.
But our 20s have passed, and I never told you. I remember telling you over the phone, how much it hurts, not telling you this "thing". Because I knew that if I ever let it slip, you'd just turn your back on me, you'd go away, never to come back. Because, I repeat, you're fucking straight.
You're not homophobe, and I'm glad, though you always say "gay guys freak me out".
And that night, over the phone, when I talked to you about how much it hurts, and about the nightmares I have, in which you turn around and walk away. And I wake up crying. Every fucking night.
That night... That was the night I made you cry. You tried to cover it up, but your voice betrayed you. I can tell when someone's crying. Because your voice trembles, you can't talk. I knew you were crying.
I never asked you afterwards, if you really were, because I knew you were, but you'd never admit it.
So, now I know this hurts you too. Knowing I'm hurting because of this "thing", because of my fear, of my nightmares, of you walking away.
You know I'm afraid. I'm scared. Of so many things. But first of all, I don't want to lose you. That's why I get mad at you every time you get drunk. You go out and get drunk, and you don't care about anything else but the fun you're having in that pub.
But last night, at that pub, you didn't get drunk. Because I was there, probably. But then I saw her. And I understood.
You didn't want to get drunk and make a fool of yourself in front of her, did you?
And still, I was watching you, as you looked at her. And I wanted to go away. I was jelaous. Hell, I was.
But you were begging me to stay. You know I can't say no to you, you were fucking begging me! But this time, I wouldn't let go. I wanted to go home alone, if that's what it takes to make you understand I didn't want to be there.
And what did you do? You began to act all gay on me, hugging me and still begging me "Please, don't go, let's stay" but were you even looking at me? NO!
"Don't go" you kept saying, your hands behind my back, trying not to look at her but at me, even trying to kiss my cheeks and act all gay and cheesy, thinking I'd say yes. You obviously thought that would work, didn't you?
But I fought off the butterflies you were giving me, I didn't think about the shivers your hands caused on me, and walked away.
So you gave up and followed me, but... too late, I was already mad at you.
You never understand. You're so in love with her, I'll never be able to tell you MY feelings.
I asked you once, we were 16: "Have you ever been truly in love?"
It took you half a minute to answer. The longest 30 seconds of my life. But you said no. I knew you would. "And you?" you asked.
I waited. Trying to recall all of our memories, and the feelings I had for you, trying to understand what they were.
"Yes." I said. And, when asked who was the one I was in love with, I didn't answer. Couldn't tell you that it was you, could I? So I shrugged it off.
"You know, it hurts so much, when you love someone but you can never be with them, because that love is wrong, and you know they will never love you back, you know that it's an impossible love, but you can't help the way you're feeling."
This was my answer to you. You looked at me, or at what you could see of me, in the dark that surrounded us that night. You didn't say anything for a while. Then you said "You're right..."
And those were your last words for that day, because I had to go home, and those silences between us that night, made me think so much.
That night, was probably the best/worst of my teenage life.
We watched "Wild Wild West" at your place. And when the film finished, and the TV turned itself off after 5 minutes (I love technology!) we were left in the dark. We began talking. About ourselves and our personalities. You're way more outgoing than me, you make friends faster and easily. While me. I'm the shy one. But when I get to know someone, when I know I can trust them, I open my heart to them. I haven't got many friends, and you have plenty.
Oh, I remember that night. You were crying again. But it was dark, so you thought I couldn't see you. But I could hear your voice, again.
After a good half hour spent in complete silence, you laid back on the couch, with your head on my legs. And I stroke your hair, moving them from your eyes, so I could see them glinting in the dark, but not looking at me. What were you thinkin, back then?
I held your hand, and kept stroking your hair, I could've stayed there forver. You weren't even complaining, I think you were actually kind of enjoying it. So many unspoken things between us...
What were you thinking, that night?
BJ
xoxo
Another random post of mine... with another comment!!
Hey BJ, told you I'd come back.
So here I am, telling you that I understand. Oh yes I do. It... kind of happened to me too, actually, it's weird.
I repeat, don't give up. Be strong.
This Stranger here, will be thinking of you.
x-Stranger-x
♠ ♠ ♠
comments very much appreciated. be ready, there'll be a few chapters like this, and then... my confession... oh gosh...COMMENT!