(no subject)
well. ive been doing better. i dont cry everyday and im doing my best to get out of bed everyday and just live. eat, work out, go out for drinks, shop, work. right now it feels like im trying too hard but then one day i'll wake up and accept that this is my life now. this happened for a reason. sometimes, i just miss the way he used to look at me, you know?
the thing is, for a long time, I havent found happiness in myself. most recently, it was lane who i relied on and then before that it was it was some boy, and before that, another. ironically, i feel so much more secure and mentally strong right now than i have in years. this experience has made me stronger, and i know that God wouldnt give me anything in life that i couldnt handle.
One art
by elizabeth bishop
the art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel.
None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
the thing is, for a long time, I havent found happiness in myself. most recently, it was lane who i relied on and then before that it was it was some boy, and before that, another. ironically, i feel so much more secure and mentally strong right now than i have in years. this experience has made me stronger, and i know that God wouldnt give me anything in life that i couldnt handle.
One art
by elizabeth bishop
the art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel.
None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.