Its only confusing because I love the both of you. He never treated
me right so you know that statement was bullshit itself. I didnt
want to start a war or have an arguement with you; but I thought
you needed to know you arent completely erased. To leave him in
that moment would have been a complete disaster because he was
drunk; always drunk. I guess i signed up for this road so clearly
here I am still trying to pursue it. You &' I both know after all
of this we could never be how we once were. Im not trying to
bullshit you or try and do anything with these posts; just to write
to you 'cause I miss you I suppose.
A little darkness, in itself,
at the time, is nothing. You think no more about it and you go
on. But I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then
suddenly bursts and drowns
everything.
“To all the devils,
l.usts,
passions, greeds, envies, loves, hates, strange desires, enemies
ghostly and real, the army of memories, with which I do battle
— may they never give me
peace.”
If
you must know, this is what I'm scared of. I'm scared
that everyone else is more who they are than I am who I am. I
think everyone else just looks at the things they feel or think
and says “Of course this is what I feel or think, this is
who I am.”
But I am never sure of what I feel or think.
And I'm scared because I'm holding all the things I
could feel or think on a boat that the slightest breeze could
tip over and if that happens, I will fall with all of it into
the water. I am scared I will be left with nothing and no idea
who I am.
I am scared of the wind.
But love's like a needle on a
record, taking parts of you away as it draws sharply and
constantly across the heart, in slow descending circles, just to
hear a song hidden in the scratches one more
time.
You drive too slowly down the
streets where you once lived but you roll up your windows when
you stop at the lights (just in case any of the ghosts try to get
in).
1. i am not impatient. i am restless.
2. i'm not a people pleaser.
3. practicing reckless optimism is not nearly as hard as knowing
when to let it go.
4. the third cigarette is the hardest to light.
5. i can cry. i just have to let myself.