An actual journal entry.
Some mornings I wake up and I wish in my slumber my chest had forgotten how to breathe. Nothing; not his eyes, not sex, not music, not drugs, not love, can cure the dead soul I carry around within me day after day. I used to think depression was a phase I was going through, but a chemical imbalance isn't a passing phase, and being off medication definitely isn't helping. Yes, I can feel now, but with the good comes twice the bad. And yet, this is still the happiest i've ever been. He makes me feel alive. His touch pushes the blood within my tattered veins into my heart and keeps it pumping. This is pure. So pure it makes every past relationship feel generic and a waste of time. When I have him in my arms I feel nothing short of divine and his butterflies feel more like a term of stomach epilepsy. I've never, ever, ever, been so in love.
I feel like i've grown more in the past five months than I have my entire life. As if the nerves in my body have tripled, the hair pushing it's way through my skin has doubled and every orifice on my body leads to an entirely different place. I can feel.
I feel like i've grown more in the past five months than I have my entire life. As if the nerves in my body have tripled, the hair pushing it's way through my skin has doubled and every orifice on my body leads to an entirely different place. I can feel.