Margaret Joy M
Bio
eighteen. canada. fan of music, lover of coffee, taekwondo athlete. avid thinker, writer, and expresser.
Stories (4/0)
2:27 AM
"Hey, it's me. Sorry it's the middle of the night, and sorry I keep calling. I understand if you don't want to talk to me, but hearing your voice on the recording is enough to keep me wanting to replay it over and over. I just want to know how you're doing. My memory asks about you all the time. It misses you. It keeps reminding me of the days where we thought we would have it all, the days we never wanted to say goodbye. Knowing one day I could come home every night and fall asleep beside you was what made me fall asleep every night. But those are just memories now, I guess. I don't sleep much these days. Also, my mom asks about you too. She wants to know when you'll come over for dinner or if you can help her move the heavy table outside. She wants to know how you're doing in school and what your goals are. I remember our goals used to be becoming successful together, and building our future one day at a time. I mean, we were supposed to have forever, right? I also remember talking with you about our goals a little while ago, and I didn't really see where I was fitting in to all of that. I didn't want to think that it meant anything more than you simply forgetting; but then again, do people simply forget to mention the person they want to be right beside them as the years go on? Anyway, I promise I'll stop calling. In the middle of the night, that is. Maybe I'll learn to call mid-day when I can picture you doing your homework with your music on or playing a video game. I don't want to stop calling. Did I tell you my mom asks about you? I haven't yet told her that we broke up, actually. I didn't tell her that it was over. Because part of me wants to believe that forgetting me in the plans of your future was a slip of the tongue, and that one day I'll get to hear your real voice instead of this recording. Part of me still has hope, and that's the truth. Part of me doesn't want it to be over."
By Margaret Joy M6 years ago in Poets
My Name Is...
“My name is Margaret, but you can call me Mar…” MAR is the girl whose confidence and charisma strikes you immediately. Mar is the name that people easily remember for its clarity and ease. Mar is a name that you just cannot get wrong. MARGARET is the girl whose voice fades away apologetically when she is asked to repeat her name one more time.
By Margaret Joy M6 years ago in Poets
