(no subject)
I don't feel like me anymore, but somehow that feels good.
It's so strange that admitting to yourself that maybe what it was was love feels so uplifting, even if no one knows and it doesn't matter and you're almost two years too late. But I loved him. And I'm okay.
It's like I have a secret that everybody knows.
Nothing is the same anymore. But I think I'm growing into me.
I'm not addicted to anyone anymore, but I know who I love to be around.
It feels amazing to know that people can change, and that sometimes a seemingly impassable void can be crossed by only the slightest change in each person on each side.
I love loving who you love, and not just because I love you. (And I love it when it seems that he cares for us aside from caring about you. And thank you for noticing my hair. I almost cried.)
I love acting on my anger, and having you smile at me and it all falls away. I fall away. The ground falls away. (Maybe in two years, I'll call it love ;) ).
I was scared before, but I'm giving it up. I want to finally become who I have wanted to be all these years. All the things people have stolen from me over the years, I counted them all. I listed them and thought about them and longed to know who I would be if these things were still mine; if I was intact. But I can't keep doing this to myself. I have to deal with it all, and be someone complete. I always wonder about who she is, the me that I didn't turn out to be. I am darker than she, I am meaner, and less trusting. But I am wiser and stronger and more independent than she ever dreamed she could be.
And I think she had to die for me to be born. And just like others that I've lost, it's time to bury her and let the past be over.
I like knowing the end of things. But it's more exciting when I don't. It's like trying to balance out how much of myself I should be able to predict.
I am sick right now and I am not making any sense. But I feel sort of okay now, but a little bit conflicted.
I was tired of being alone and scared of the prospect of the future. I had a crisis.
So in short, all this post is trying to tell you--or tell me, or tell anyone--is this: I'm better now.
It's so strange that admitting to yourself that maybe what it was was love feels so uplifting, even if no one knows and it doesn't matter and you're almost two years too late. But I loved him. And I'm okay.
It's like I have a secret that everybody knows.
Nothing is the same anymore. But I think I'm growing into me.
I'm not addicted to anyone anymore, but I know who I love to be around.
It feels amazing to know that people can change, and that sometimes a seemingly impassable void can be crossed by only the slightest change in each person on each side.
I love loving who you love, and not just because I love you. (And I love it when it seems that he cares for us aside from caring about you. And thank you for noticing my hair. I almost cried.)
I love acting on my anger, and having you smile at me and it all falls away. I fall away. The ground falls away. (Maybe in two years, I'll call it love ;) ).
I was scared before, but I'm giving it up. I want to finally become who I have wanted to be all these years. All the things people have stolen from me over the years, I counted them all. I listed them and thought about them and longed to know who I would be if these things were still mine; if I was intact. But I can't keep doing this to myself. I have to deal with it all, and be someone complete. I always wonder about who she is, the me that I didn't turn out to be. I am darker than she, I am meaner, and less trusting. But I am wiser and stronger and more independent than she ever dreamed she could be.
And I think she had to die for me to be born. And just like others that I've lost, it's time to bury her and let the past be over.
I like knowing the end of things. But it's more exciting when I don't. It's like trying to balance out how much of myself I should be able to predict.
I am sick right now and I am not making any sense. But I feel sort of okay now, but a little bit conflicted.
I was tired of being alone and scared of the prospect of the future. I had a crisis.
So in short, all this post is trying to tell you--or tell me, or tell anyone--is this: I'm better now.