The gift of time, effort, and quality is love.
Intimate sincerity landing softly in the heart.
I’m not receiving what you think you’re giving.
Maybe you don’t understand what love is?
Maybe I don’t know how to receive it?
Maybe I expect too much?
Maybe you don’t give enough?
Maybe I was wrong?
This was all a test.
Where was the love, and sweetness?
Oh my, how you failed.
And in that moment of forced togetherness
I felt like the boy eating off the filth of a paper city
I realised I’m forcing the same trash through my heart
In craving to be someone’s priority
Find the specific details on why you loved this person, and it’s okay to find yourself still loving this person, but you have to see that these qualities do exist with a person who’s waiting for you, who’s even willing to give you more.
Let go of the fantasy. Loss is a good place to love yourself more and work on forgiving yourself more.
Baby, don’t think that the time you spent with that person was lost for it has prepared you for this very moment, our conversation here.
Heartache may lead to the suicide of the mind but never of the soul.
We’re not special, not like before.
I don’t fucking like you anymore.
Was before even all that? Was it even real?
You catapulted your heart and adoration away to another.
I transport back to emotions I was forced to leave behind. Aching for them.
Support is not commitment when your lover suffers subtle degrees of rejection.
Your focus was where it shouldn’t have been.
Layers of my strength came undone with your carelessness.
I was livid. I was lost.
I am lost, and still here.
I’ve been on #9.
It was amazing. For awhile.
Was too young to know it might end badly.
Fooled by the soft and comfortable.
Got pushed off. Hard.
Too stupid on how to deal.
Fuck Cloud 9.
The landing was excruciating.