The time you spent with each other should be more than enough of a basis for him to take an action and form a decision. You have to bear in mind that the absence of a decision is already a decision in itself — he’s deciding not move forward to the next level because you’re not his choice, and you probably never will be.
My hands are scarred from holding thorns of my past close to my chest.
You are blinded with your romanticized ideas of who he is
Heal without fear. Heal without doubt. Heal and keep on healing. It will still hurt, yes.
You still gladly wear the blindfold you’ve worn the entire time you’ve been with him, because the truth is so ugly, so utterly soul-destroying, that you’d rather walk with your eyes closed and your hand still locked in his.
Deciding to leave the place you call your home and saying goodbye to the people close to your heart isn’t actually something you thought you’d be doing so soon, but here you are now, a few sleeps away from waking up in a different land.
You are the strong wind that sweeps me off my feet and the tornado that sucks me in. I spin madly in the twister that is your mind, and you drop me in a splintered heap on strange lands, with no one to rescue my fractured heart and mend my broken pride.
Let me tell you what I see when I look at you.
One of the most common (and annoying) misconceptions is that women wear makeup, coordinate their outfits, and style their hair in order to impress the opposite sex.
Familiarity’s the culprit. We know each other inside and out, the bad and the ugly and the terrible — and this familiarity is already too much for our hearts to handle most of the time.