I’m tired of carrying this weight on my shoulders from my past that haunts me.
Despite nearing my thirties, this week I felt like a six year old child again, begging and desperate for my mom to heal this raw wound of mine.
Feeling guilty about feeling happy.
The problem is this: Nothing inside us stays lost. We don’t lose our emotions in our bodies. We lose ourselves and who we are. We lose our way, we lose our strength, and then we lose hope.
Heartbreak is getting that plus one to a wedding and not knowing who you’re going to take.
That’s the really admirable thing about human hearts – they feel, sometimes without permission. And we’re so lucky when they love deeply.
And I flirt with the idea of maybe but in reality, I know I’m just leading you on.
I looked down and tried to look away in hopes that everything I felt wasn’t written across my face. But I knew you knew.
It’s a hookup that’ll never be more and you know it hurts her to leave in the morning.
I know you’re tired of me and how I always look broken even when you’re whole.