Never let yourself go.
We were passionate, we were glorious - we were destructive.
The past will forever be unchangable, forever stuck in the way it was left. We cannot undo whatever mistakes we have committed in the past, nor can we see the consequences for them that lay in the future. We are longing for a new beginning in the future, but the past continusly leaps up with us; keeping us from becoming what we want to be.
It feels like I’m bent - not broken like everyone tends to describe themselves as, not that being bent is less horrifying and confusing. I feel like I was forced to twist myself in painful ways to maintain my santiy. And here I am now - wandering around in my own mind, feeling homesick. It’s like I’m staying at a strangers place, unable to get home. I’m not really sure that I’ve ever felt at home in my own life, in my body, in those eyes staring back at me in the mirror or in my own mind. I’ve always felt out of place - never really connecting with anyone or anything in my surroundings, always seeking refuge in things that does not exist in the real world.
I never thought that I’d let myself feel that much again - I knew the risks and the pain, why bother? People tend to say that I’m dramatic and that there will always be love around the corner - but must there be? What is this compulsion of finding true love? Does it even exist? And why do we mistake happiness for love, placing it in another persons hands? I’m afraid of love, of feeling too much. Because when I let myself feel, I always feel too much. That might sound good, but if you ever find yourself in one of those situations where you realize that you’re almost obsessed with the thought of love then it won’t be as romanticized as you saw it first.
Then you will realize that the romanticized version of love that you hold in your head has been misleading you your whole life