We fall in love, we fall out of love. sometimes it never was there in the first place, other times, it’s so indiscernible we don’t even understand it, we can’t even look it in the eye. Sometime these things are so painful we can’t even acknowledge to our deepest selves that maybe it’s all a lie, or maybe it’s the deepest truths.
Maybe we were ready; maybe we never will be.
Maybe now all we need is a way out of everything.
Maybe all we need are steps towards healing, maybe that is the way out.
Maybe all we’re doing is protecting ourselves. But at what price?
Maybe, that’s not what matters.
I’m constantly trying to put these moments in a light that is sensible to me.
It’s constantly a gigantic clusterfuck.
yeah it’s the only physical thing i have of yours thats reminds me of you, so i am sorry but i have to keep it
<<most of this conversation doesn’t need to be made public, not necessary>>
well you cant have your pillow and dont think think this was some kinda arguement out of anger i was just telling you my perspective… and no you cant have your pillow back unless you come upe here to get it
i miss you
Sometimes relationships end in a way that can be discussed and reflected upon.
Sometimes they end in a way that causes heartache and confusion for months, (working on) even years.
I feel like these are moving-forward moments; I’m coming to terms with giving all of myself, to telling whole truths, never half-truths. Lies are told these days, and then the truth is told to give them meaning.
I tell stories to mask feelings, fears.
I live to mask feelings, fears.
I hate masking these feelings, these fears.
I AM A BUNDLE OF FEELINGS, A BUNDLE OF FEARS.