Today’s the day that I come home, and not have you waiting for me.
But there will come a day when I’ll truly be free of you. There will come a day when I will find myself rooted to the spot once again, but this time, with someone who will actually choose to stay
Yes, I know. The voice that tells you to drift towards the bottom is stronger. But listen to the whisper. Swim. Do not drift towards the bottom.
To this day, I do not fully understand what changed. How and why we reached this point. All I know is, we did.
They call it petrichor – the smell of earth that emanates as soon as the first raindrops fall.
I used to hate the sweetness of it. But it was something tangible of you that I could hold on to.
There was this constant battle between the part of myself that longed to be free from pain, and the part that still feared having my heart trampled on so easily. In the end, fear won.
I was scared to write about you because if I were to recall the last time I was truly happy, it was when there was a boy who was eager to read my stories. And writing about you would mean that I have accepted the fact that as soon as I finish this, you would not be able to read what I have written.