This one is also for you

I honestly thought I am done talking about it.

I blame this on us not having any closure and that’s on you. You know how I have the tendency to only remember the good times out of my previous failures. Something you always hated by the way. Question is: will I ever let go of you?

Ok. Let’s be honest! That is the whole point of me writing this, isn’t it? You broke a piece of me I never want to fix. I will even fight myself to keep the hate alive.

Often times I keep replaying the memory of the night when you left. I know I told you to go and then begged you to stay. My ego wanted me to figure out if there was a lesson in there for me to take something out of. I think not. Maybe that was your lesson. I know you still hold guilt over it and yes, I got your message. It’s not good enough. I can’t forgive you and trust me, I tried.

Keep close everything I once told you, that shit will come to you when you need it most. On this ending note I would like to say that I’m sorry: sorry for the hurtful things I said; sorry for some of the things I did. You know I never really meant to upset you. I am sorry about your father and for that you will forever have a piece of me.

I have to let you go now.

I’m sorry!

Ps: I doubt you read these words but I’ll let them out in the universe hoping they’ll find you.

People never change – People get better at hiding who they truly are

I’m sorry, did this hit close to home? Always believed we don’t grow up, we just become more of who we are. Kinda like drugs a bit.

The ability of doing something for the first time provides the necessary determination to repeat that action with a higher level of success.

Cheating Abuse Immoral Behaviour

Couldn’t think of anything positive. Sorry y’all!

It’s almost cute how we all hide behind these paper houses we built for ourselves: a shadow image portraying who we would like to be more so than who we are.

*courtesy of someone actually reading this

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🔪💔

Yeah, ok. But what about the physical pain that comes with heartbreak?

The feeling of being chocked to death when you’re just trying to catch a breath

The little stabbing with an ice pick kind of wounds. You can’t see the bleeding but you can feel the actual pain

The one that feels like your entire body is in pain like being thrown into walls. I call that “the Hulk smash”

The constant feeling of nausea

The shrinkage. Yeah, the one that feels exactly like something holding the heart and squashing it

Headache. If you don’t have one you will give yourself one as a result of hours and hours of crying hysterically

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“I’ve dug two graves for us, my dear” – X

I felt for a long time that I built you and you threw it all away. For a lie. I really thought that I made you who you are and then simply passed you on to another.

That got me thinking somehow that any other woman would treat you like a brand new project. Start from scratch!

What an infinite hell it must be to press the reset button every time you enter a new relationship. I should know.

That all must come from being right with the wrong people, for you anyhow. Being in shit ass complacent immature over romanticised relationships forged in the brightest of fires meant to burn out fast.

I find myself resentful writing this.

Guilty
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these 20 questions

Do I want you because I am feeling lonely? Do I want you because you are the happiest place I’ve ever been to? Do I want you because you are lowkey everything I ever wanted? Do I want you because you are the one that got away? Did I let you go? Did I chase you off? Do I want you because we were never done? Will we ever be done? Do we just need closure? Do I want you because you are always on my mind? Is that love? Is that the love they talk about? Do I just need to be loved? Do I need to be loved by you? Do I feel like this because I’ve been having a hard time? Is it because I’ve been having a hard time ever since we stopped being? Is it because I’ve hurt you? Is it because you’ve been going through some shit as well? Do I even want you or am I just selfish?

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They said “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”. Let me tell you this: If you hit the same spot over and over again; it will eventually break. So do we.

In an imaginary conversation I had with what should have been your conscience you told me:

“I felt like I wasn’t good enough, I haven’t done enough.
My best was not close to covering it. My best is not even that much right now.
I don’t know how to make you stay.
I don’t understand how to make you happy!
I hurt too…
You are so cold, it makes me doubt myself constantly!
I feel like whatever I am, it’s not who you want.
This is not even who I am, it’s who I thought you wanted.
I was wrong and I guess you liked me better before.
I lied to make you stay. You did. You became nothing but a shell though, empty inside.
I did my best to bring you down. To me!
Thought that if I made you feel you don’t deserve any better than me, I could finally have you.
I am still learning love and you’ve run out of patience.
I barely know how to swim and when I saw the boat filling up with water, I just jumped out, you know? I didn’t know how to save you too.
After all, what is the point of saving a giant block of ice from drowning?”

none, honey. I suppose I’ll just fucking float!

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i’m Fine

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Tears in disguise
Our memories blind
Those leftover lies
Are numbing the mind


There are hardly words
For the heart to describe
The harshness of loss
Your hunger of pride


I’ve paid my respect
To our love’s demise
It hurt so I’ve swept
Those dead feelings aside


For two is sometimes
Even bigger than nine
Yet now it’s just me
And I’ve learned that’s fine.

-V.

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On a daily thought.

Why is it sometimes much easier to pour out everything to a stranger rather than our closest people?
Sure. One might say “ a trained professional will know how to ask the right questions”.
But really though, is it just that?
I often forget the most important fact of life, to be truthful to myself. Shit, sometimes I realize I admit something to myself by telling it to someone.
So, if we are being honest to ourselves, we know te answer to that question.
Most times, the ones that know us best, will be our harshest judges. That is why we don’t tell our mothers everything. Yet, with all that being said:

Do the people that know us best, know us at all?