Don't know why I'm saying this here.
There is something frustrating about the past.
Something meaning that idiotic happenings crushed any comfort for the future. What an ultimately kind, good person has done keeps the thought of friendship locked in a cage inside my heart, staunchly guarded by poisoned memories and tensions I never meant to put there. He could be one of my best friends. But instead he's an object of fear, something I am over in one sense but that last bit of dagger won't ever dislodge.
it saddens me in the same way that self-mutilation saddens me. as if you see the beauty in someone, and they take blades to it and try to tear it out right in front of you.
I put myself in danger and hope for a positive outcome.
But I don't actually know what that is.
Something meaning that idiotic happenings crushed any comfort for the future. What an ultimately kind, good person has done keeps the thought of friendship locked in a cage inside my heart, staunchly guarded by poisoned memories and tensions I never meant to put there. He could be one of my best friends. But instead he's an object of fear, something I am over in one sense but that last bit of dagger won't ever dislodge.
it saddens me in the same way that self-mutilation saddens me. as if you see the beauty in someone, and they take blades to it and try to tear it out right in front of you.
I put myself in danger and hope for a positive outcome.
But I don't actually know what that is.