I know I’m not easy to love but when I love, I love hard, I fully give my all.
The time is 2:19 a.m. and I sit sullenly at my sad excuse for a desk, typing, backspacing, typing, backspacing. My vocabulary escapes me at this hour. All I want is to fall into purple-hazed dreams and maybe not feel what it feels like to want and want so desperately that it stings. I think back to old friends, acquaintances, lovers, enemies (if there is such a thing anymore) and I try to imagine what they think of me now.
Love is many things, but it should not hurt all the time.
I am wildly afraid that I’m not mentally capable of falling in love with someone again.
“Remember to smile”, he said matter-of-factly. “People might think your heart is shattered.”
“If you took the monsters’ point of view, everything they did made perfect sense. The trick was learning to think like a monster.” But your depression is a monster that can’t be made sense of and it’s an entity that doesn’t contain any logic.
You hide your hearts deepest desires. You hide your thoughts behind tweets.
It’s not supposed to make your best friend heartbroken because it pains her to see you settle for less than you deserve.
Everything is hazy; the air feels thick and tight. Even now, some years and so many fires later, I still sleep with the windows open.