I’m working on accepting myself for who I am.
What was it like to love him? Asked Gratitude. It was like being exhumed, I answered. And brought to life in a flash of brilliance. What was it like to be loved in return? Asked Joy. It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence. What was it like to lose him? Asked Sorrow. There was a long pause before I responded: It was like...
Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken during the day takes on a new and deeper meaning.
One day, when I wake up at 3am unable to sleep, I will look next to me and you will be there, sleeping peacefully beside me and suddenly, the world won’t seem so lonely.
Your words were hurtful, but your silence is devastating.
Maybe you’ll never notice, because you are fireworks and I am pale skies and you are trumpets and claxons while I am a single harp string and I have shy eyes and quiet hands and where you are the chorus and the thunder of waves, I am only a breeze ruffling the grass in the faint and milky dawn, but I love you more than you know.
I feel like I am waiting for something that I know in the back of my mind probably won’t happen. I just don’t want to fully admit it to myself. I’ve already set my hopes too high.
At the end of the day, I feel sorry for you, not me. Its you who has lost someone that truly loved you.
It’s not that I hate you, it’s just that I hate all of the memories you left in my head when you walked out on me.