choke that thief called dependence
warning; this post includes elements that are somewhat poisonous to common sense such as "desperation" and "things i will probably regret writing later on"
the music in my ears is mindnumbingly loud, and deliberately so. here goes my last hope of blasting these words out of my brain before i get a chance to write them down.
(it's times like these i'm glad that most of the people in my life aren't interested enough to actually go to this journal and read the words i spew out, because right now, i know i'm about to uncover a whole new dimension of bullshit.)
you know what, i'm not okay. i'm not okay because it's fucking raining and thunder and lightning bolts are everywhere and i feel like i never had a chance to prepare for this, rainwater leaking into my shoes, soaking my feet, it's not okay to be ripped from sleep by the morning sun, only to be drowned in acid rain (it smells more sour these days) as soon as i leave (what used to be) the comforts of my own bed, shivering because this whole fucking apartment is cold as fuck.
for once in my life, blankets and pillows and slippers can't take the cold away. what good are they, anyway, when the chill comes from within? after a summer of basking in the heat of everything around me, my very core has been spoiled by the warmth, leaving my hands and feet freezing when i'm left alone.
maybe i can get through the winter naked. maybe not.
that which isn't broken cannot be fixed, and neither can that which has been. it's a curse, once you open up and have your insides raped panic will creep up on you when you realize the lid doesn't fit anymore. you're like an open wound.
more than anything, i regret opening up. if good things come to those who wait, why does this get harder with every second? you only have a few hours after being sliced open to stitch yourself up, i know that, and i'm wondering if it's too late for me now. the absence only tears me up further. maybe i should cut the losses and move on. just like the good old times.
you know what i hate the most? nothing is the same anymore. i'm not the girl with no loves OR former loves anymore. i'm not the same person who laughed at the most macabre breakups ("i don't think you love me anymore..") because they were hilarious exhibits of how love can fuck you up (".. no."), because now it all seems to apply a lot more to me, so now i'm laughing because there's nothing else to do.
i regret this.
i think love you, but i know regret this.
and that might be the biggest mistake of them all.