That’s what lust is. When you think there are no faults in this person, and even if there are, they’re just small enough to overlook.
I know you choose hope over giving up and that allows for the possibility of greater things. Giving up is weak, and you may be a lot of things but that isn’t one of them.
At the risk of sounding too idealistic, it really does come down to trying to find the silver lining in every bad thing (because nine out of ten times, I promise you it will be there) and being proactive rather than simply reactive.
I won’t be his emotional pillow. His selfish comfort. I am placeholder. I am temptation, something to ease the lonely. I am a girl he never wanted to begin with.
Getting over a broken heart isn’t easy: it requires deliberate positive thoughts and purposeful resistance of self-destructive ones. It won’t be a quick transition, but that is to be expected.
After a really hard day.
The purpose of this letter isn’t to make you sad. It’s quite the opposite, actually.
The word “love” is more often than not, associated with diamond rings, dreamy kisses, and Cupid’s notorious bow shooting around a myriad of fiery arrows. We see it on TV, we read about it in books—when two worlds collide and romantic feelings spring forth—and dub such as what “love” looks like.
Sometimes the waterworks came without warning, at work when you stepped out of your car and heard the band playing your song. Your stomach flipped and shrieked at the sound of those painfully familiar guitar chords.
I lost a friend today. Those five words in particular aren’t poignant by any means, I’ve lost count of those I’ve lost over the years, but this isn’t my first rodeo. I did not write this for me though. This has nothing to do with me or how I feel, because one less boy walks this earth today, and it was his choice.