I wasn’t ready to let all of it go. I wanted to hope a little more, to love him a little longer.
Sorry that I never explained to you why it all ended.
I keep you at arm’s length in order to protect myself.
They ask you why you’re so damaged. So you explain that when you love someone, your heart breaks off and the other person stores a piece of that break inside them.
I hope it counts that I’m coming to You on their behalf; once upon a time, they came to You on mine.
You might think you’re not ready, but you are.
Thank you for being tough on me when I need it most. Like when I’m being cruel, unkind or unreasonable. You’re always there to straighten me out reminding me to be patient with people and with myself.
When you are depressed, reason becomes alien as you long to make sense of the nothingness. You long to feel, to breathe, to get rid of the pain. But you don’t feel, you can’t breathe, and you only feel pain.
I wish I understood that things will happen when they’re meant to.
I know it’s foolish of me to hope for that “one day” to come, but I hope for it anyway.