I used to be in love with you. You had the most beautiful smile, laugh, and not to mention British accent. You were interested in the same music and films, and I felt like I was lucky when I figured out you were a director. I was immediately attracted and I thought you were perfect. The only thing keeping us apart was the distance and the fact that you were 15 years older. I knew this seemed wrong but at the time I wanted to believe that our conversations about EVERYTHING meant something to you too. There was a reason why you met me on tumblr and kept talking to me. You just wanted me for my body. I would stay up late avoiding my family just to show you what I have never showed anyone else …me naked. It was exhilarating at first but I regretted it more and more. I wanted a relationship not this exposure that didn’t mean anything at all. This went on for eight months and then I finally found someone in REAL life who treated me right. I now know that even when I delete you from my facebook, tumblr, twitter, anything from the internet world, you will always haunt the back of my mind.
“But when a saga popular with pre-adolescent girls peaks romantically on a night that leaves the heroine to wake up covered with bruises in the shape of her husband’s hands — and when that heroine then spends the morning explaining to her husband that she’s incredibly happy even though he injured her, and that it’s not his fault because she understands he couldn’t help it in light of the depth of his passion — that’s profoundly irresponsible.”—
“But romanticizing an intimate relationship that leaves bruises and scars is a particularly terrible idea in a film aimed at girls. Talking about this is tiresome, but then so is putting it in the movie. From depicting the loss of virginity as a naturally violent, frightening, physically dangerous experience to making Bella a woman with no life at all outside of her literally all-consuming pregnancy, the narrative sledgehammers are all as distasteful as they are inelegant.”
I always wonder what your doing when we aren’t talking. I think and wonder where you are, and who you’re with. When I’m lonely, you’re always the first thought in my head. You pop up in my head at the most random times. But with these thoughts, they’re “what if’s…” I get worried and I always question myself.