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We waste time looking for the perfect lover, intstead of creating the perfect love.
Someone asked me the other day if my glass was half empty or half full. I was going to say it's empty, but that's not completely true. My life isn't void and I have my happy moments, but they usually just seem to disappear, or get worse. So, my glass is cracked, yes -- cracked. It gets filled up with happiness and hope, but it always ends up escaping my grasp. It always ends up emptying out. It will never be full because it's always leaking. And one day, it will be thrown away, because no one wants a broken glass.
Sometimes you need to step outside, get some air, & remind yourself of who you are & where you really want to be.
It doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends. You still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. &+ how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. and you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.
I was born to be stubborn, to be a little bitchy, to push people, and push myself. I was taught to never take life for granted, to live a little, to love with everything I had to never give up, to believe in my myself, but most of all to fight for myself.
Just tell me why I was never good enough. I think you owe me at least that much. After all the months of second guessing and falling down, you owe me this. So before you go run of to your pretty little new girlfriend, look me in the eyes and tell me why.
In that moment, I felt my heart break. And I thought, “I can’t live without you. I don’t want to live without you,” and then it slowly crept into my mind that no matter how bad I wanted or needed you, it wouldn’t matter.
Why do I care so much about you, after all you've done to me? I mean, you're nothing really special, just another stupid teenage idiot. But you were always my idiot, and that's what counts. God, I used to believe in you. I really did. But I don't know what to believe anymore. You blew it, idiot. I hope you're happy. Just when I thought everything would be okay, you threw it all away. You changed before my eyes. It's like these last months meant nothing. I'm not gonna lie, this hurts like hell. I've never hurt this much over another person. I want to be done with you. But I can't say goodbye. This might seem backwards, but I don't know what hurts more right now, the possibility that you never cared about me at all, or the possibility that you still do.
Trust yourself. You know more than you think you do.
You always said I had a hard time saying what's on my mind, well, here it goes: I hate you for what you've done to me.
The hurt began to fade and it was easier to just let go. At least I thought it was. But in every boy I met in the next few years, I found myself looking for you, and when the feelings got too strong I'd write you another letter. But I never sent them, in fear of what I might find. By then, you'd gone on with your life and I didn't want to think about you loving someone else. I wanted to remember us like we were that summer. I didn't want to ever forget that.lost in darkness and despair remember it's only in the black of night that you see the stars.