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You’re Still Waiting Because No One Has Told You Not To

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God&Man

You’re waiting because no one has told you not to. They’ve talked to you, they’ve told you they’ll be there for you. But come the time, their words never heal the hurt this world has inflicted upon you, their sympathy does more damage than good. It stifles your soul. It makes you feel weak and small. So here I am, telling you, don’t wait. Don’t look at warning signs and hope you never have to flip to the pages of the manual which says ‘what to do in times of trouble’.

You’re better than this.

I know, he makes your knees tremble at the mere sight of his tears; he makes you want to throw your arms around him and become the wall which protects every town at war from the flying heap of fire catapulted from across the valley. He makes you want to stay the night, lay down your armour and throw yourself at his tired feet just so he kisses you again. But if he doesn’t the same when you are falling apart, if his lips don’t find yours when your mouth tastes bitter from being the poison tree of sorrow for too long, don’t look back when you walk away.

It’ll feel like turning to ashes and scattering yourself against the storm hoping it takes you away to faraway places, where thoughts of him won’t haunt you anymore, where you’ll not question yourself the what ifs of leaving that night. It’ll feel like you’re a desert from which the last shrub was uprooted and the last oasis was poisoned. But trust me, it gets better. The door you slammed that day on your way out might have seemed like closing the only source of light into the darkness of the corridor you walk through, but soon you’ll realise there are doors on the other end as well.

All you had to do was walk this distance, put your hand on the cold, sweaty knob and twist. All you had to do was find your way to the church of self preservation, where you become your greatest ally, where you finally realise the truth of all those things they should’ve told you, but didn’t. You’re worth more than just a lost soul waiting for a bus to take you home.

You are the bus. You are the street.

You are your own goddamn home. TC mark

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