I Lost A Part Of Myself With Him That I’m Still Looking For
I owe it to myself to try and find her again, be her, and give her back to everyone else.
I owe it to myself to try and find her again, be her, and give her back to everyone else.
I’m angry at the world for glorifying mental illnesses and for self-diagnosing, using the names out of context to label themselves on a bad day.
That’s a cute necklace, you know who would like that? Me.
This time, I’m not saying sorry.
This may seem silly coming from an ex, but I don’t say it out of jealousy or even spite. I say it because I never want someone to feel what I’ve felt.
Stop tolerating life. Quit turning your head the other way, don’t avoid doing something you want to do because you’re afraid of what people might think.
At 20-years-old, I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing. I was in my undergrad studies, freshly transferred from a community college and terrified of my own life.
If you knew just how heavy my heart still feels today, you’d probably tell me to stop it, to suck it up, and that you’re fine.
At almost 25, I tell myself I should be somewhere else. I should be living on my own, with a higher paying job, my loans paid off, and have a solid career.
I made friends with myself by accepting what was in front of me and treating the reflection I’ve fought for so long with dignity.