It’s 1:30 am and we are standing outside 7-Eleven, soaking and shaking from a sudden downpour in Los Angeles.
Sometimes, in the presence of many people, with strangers’ eyes looking at you and judging you by how you look, that’s when you feel so outcast. Alone. and well, lonely.
Despite my attempts to destroy it, despite the feeling of finally being free, it always finds me. Growing stronger, clinging tighter. Forcing me into withdrawal once again.
It feels amazing.
And sometimes I wonder if we truly learn to overcome heartbreak, if we ever pick up the pieces; or we simply learn to go on with holes in our heart and broken pieces all around us.
You have a bad day, and you figure out what triggered that bad day. You go through the steps that you have perfected in order to make yourself feel better.
To be able to love is a beautiful thing, but that also means we are able to hurt, to feel afraid, to feel alone. It’s intrinsic — we ache for connection.
If you pretended you wanted me, you know, I’d probably go away. Don’t you know that by now?
You can love someone in a way you never loved your ex.
You begin to want more. You knew you would have to wait for him to come around, but months have passed and everything is still superficial; something is just missing.