Everything is felt when I breathe. Everything you do is remembered. You let me go, it felt as though you let me go easily. You forgot about me. I moved on but haven’t really forgotten.
Mistakes have been made; mistakes are trying to define me. They haunt me whenever I have free time. Regrets love to show up and ruin my good fortune of forgetting.
In my youth, I had no idea. I don’t know how I could have been so clueless. I don’t know how I could not have known better.
Love’s absence has become as much a part of me as my jet black hair. My hair has made happier though, freer.
Hopelessness is trying to take over. It takes away my voice, my vision, almost my passion. It reminds me how little I’ve accomplished even if it seems to be plenty to an outsider.
I’m afraid horrible thinking habits will become an unbreakable pattern.
As I form these words, I feel confused. Confused by being uncertain for so long. I know it’s not so, but almost everyone floating around me seems to know more than what I was told. They get to live a life and I feel paused.
I always try to write a positive twist in, but today I’m not sure. I’m also good at making things darker than they actually are and I’m not sure I will do that either. The urge to give up seems easier, more logical. I wish my restless heart could give up on that which does not seem to be given to me. I wish I could give to my heart, it truly means well.
I wish to never become utterly hopeless. It can always get worse, I could officially be depressed. I could officially let the darkness settle in and take a seat in my crazy, overactive brain.
Friends left, family left, he left, expectations left, even I left myself. I’m trying to come back but haven’t found a way to do that anymore. I have tried to make the right choices but I guess I thought I’d be somewhere else than where I am.
The end of the year slaps me in the face. It always tries to make me over think and I don’t appreciate it. I never truly feel as though I’ve succeeded. When will it end? When will it make more sense? When will the expectations match some sort of reality? Should I let go? Should I hold on? Should I be hopeless or hopeful? I honestly do not know anymore.
I want to not care, I want nothing. I want you but I don’t want to want you. I feel tired. I’m very tired. I guess something will unfold, good or bad. In the meantime, I’ll remain. I’ll breathe. All I can do is wait, breathe and maybe something will make some sense. Some sort of sense.