I wish I weren’t this spoiled. Comfort is a safety net to fall back to. And then that safety net just disappears and I’m left with a sense of helplessness when I finally gained some sense of control.
And bad things happen at the same time.
But I’m not the same person anymore. I’ll try harder
I’ll try harder
I miss love, too.
Not the hurt though which I feel only intermittently nowadays.
I keep thinking about how I couldn’t imagine life without you. And now I’m living it. And then about what kind of story we would become in your memory and words you tell your next lover.
I already have mine. I don’t like the way it is told now, I’ll change it later when I like you as a person again.
I was thinking about how I’ll forget and forgive, both you and I. But I realize anything can happen.
What if I can’t forgive you. That will be very sad because you’re kind of nice I guess.
I’d like to think that you are. Because i’d like to think that I am, or will be.
I need to forgive myself too.
Is there a possibility that I change
So that I don’t know the person who loved you anymore
Or so that you don’t know the person who loved you anymore
The worst part is
Our love had taken away the most innocent portion of my heart that I poured into loving you
The best part is
Even when I’ve emptied it out, there are still a thousand things I’m capable of loving
I wanted to go out and grab a drink.
Then felt like the best decision I had made these days was to stay inside. I want too many things to waste time.
Needs a little bit of nourishment right now.
Was six months ago. And I’ve learned to ease the aching of my existence in the world.
I would like to think of you as the same person that I had loved. Not you now.
Not what our relationship has turned us into.
In that sense, you’re not there anymore.
I’ve lost the warmth of your embrace, the tenderness of your lips pressed against mine, the electric shock your fingers caused running on my skin.
I’d like to think of it as the death of something I used to hold dear.
Because in death I find the rebirth of something new.
The strength aloneness has honed.
I miss you dearly.
The good part.
Ah, well, forget it.
I don’t ALWAYS draw young girls with bobbed hair