My last appeal...

The things I hide from you...

I almost have no words for the year that is about to come to an end. Never have I felt as much, done as much, gained as much or lost as much. I've not only survived, but I prospered. I've become more attune to myself, and I have a sense that I am one step closer to the dreams I dream - still, to this very day. Torment and agonizing developments left me scarred, yet with a new found determination to reach even higher. For the past four years, ever since I embarked on the true journey of self-discovery, I felt this immense amount of pressure to validate myself as an individual who is capable of receiving love and giving it in return. Now as I stand ready to face whatever might come next, I am calm for I know that when love might lurk its head again, I'll be ready. Until then I push onward, because I understand that my fantasises won't wait for me forever, and if I don't transcend now, I could lose my chance. I have finally found that part of me again that most pity and find unphantomable, but for me it represents my greatest asset - my ability to be self-sufficient. I don't need anybody, and it's not sad or demented. As a writer, it is a curse I gladly bare, for it allows me to create, to find meaning in the meaningless, and share my story with you. And that has always been enough for me.

He's shaking off the rust...

Every habit he's ever had is still there in his body, lying dormant like flowers in the desert. Given the right conditions, all his old addictions would burst into full and luxuriant bloom. But he needs you to know that he has absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which he sometimes so madly indulges. It has not been in pursuit of pleasure that he's perilled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom. There are all kinds of addicts, he would assume. We all have pain. And we all look for ways to make the pain go away - the methods he chose just happened to cause even more ruin. So as he bundles up and tries to figure out what the next incarnation of himself looks like, a smile crosses his face, for he knows that whatever might come, it will surely be a story to remember.

Dreaming out loud...

I've been thinking lately that maybe some things don't get better, and they don't suddenly hurt less or rip through your heart with such intensity. Maybe only we ourselves can. We get stronger and are able to stand firmer. We learn to live with the hand we've been dealt, and accept situations as messy and ugly as they are. We fix what we can and we adapt to what we can't. There is no magic formula or cure. Each and everyone of us is on a journey distinctly unique, yet basely familiar, in order to allow others the ability to comprehend and empathise. Perhaps some of us will never be fully okay, but at least we're here. We're still trying. We're doing the best we can. If you're still reading this after all these years, then congratulations. We've made it to today. We've made it.

Oh steady feet, don't fail me now...

This town is colder now, I think it's sick of us.

It's time to make our move, I'm shaking off the rust.

I've got my heart set on anywhere but here.

I'm staring down myself, counting up the years.

Steady hands just take the wheel,

and every glance is killing me.

Time to make one last appeal

for the life I live.

See what I see...

I am still both happy and sad,

and I am still trying to figure out why that is.

I realised that in fact I have just gone through my first real breakup. I know I've written about lost love before, but none have enveloped my life as profoundly as ours. It's funny how I still have so much empathy for you, and I'm guessing that will never go away, even if it remains one-sided forever. I think ... thinking about you, about us will always make me just a little bit sad. Not because I would yearn for a reconnection, but simply for knowing that I've never come so close to happiness, yet in the same breath, been so far away from it. Perhaps when we meet again, things will be clearer -  we will understand why we did the things we did, why we acted out, and why our story unravelled with such speed. Until then I shall come here and remember you fondly, never forgetting the path walked, and the journey so selflessly shared. 

Here comes love...

It's time to make a move...

Every glance is killing me...

I am drowning, and as one period shuts its door forever, I am left in owe how much more I still need to learn. It doesn't get easier, not one bit. Every step seems harder and heavier, as if the weight of my every mistake was mocking my existence. I am far from perfect, and I stumble more often than I'd dare to admit, yet somehow against all odds I find beauty where there is none. My heart was broken, and I broke one in return, never truly grasping that I had the power to do so. I won't beg for your forgiveness, as you won't for mine, but know that I have changed so much because of you. You showed me that love does exists, and above all, that it is fragile. It can break in seconds, even if it took years to nurture and build. I hope that one day, when we meet again, we shall remember our time together with happiness and bliss. Until then, all I can do, all any of us can do, is simply move forward - one step at a time.

You said you knew the perfect place to run to. A place that was empty of people, and buildings, and far, far away. A place covered in blood-red earth and sleeping life. A place longing to come alive again. It's a place for disappearing, you'd said, a place for getting lost ... and for getting found. I'll take you there, you whispered. You took my hand and we ran as fast as we possibly could. The wind in our hair was a reminder that despite everything, we are still alive. We are still breathing. We are still fighting. But when he turned his back to the lights, he saw that the night was so dark., he couldn't even see the stars. The world felt as high as the depthless night sky and deeper than he could know. He understood, suddenly and keenly, that he was too small to run away, so he sat on the damp ground and cried. And cried. And cried.

Stop and stare...

Once more I am caught in a vortex of thought and misshapen circumstance. I am doing all I can, one could even argue that I'm doing more than most, yet I still feel as if there is so much more that I should do. As reality sets in, my dreams seem further away than ever. The question begs itself since the beginning of this journey - how do I transcend and break free? Perhaps my destiny is to always remain stuck somewhere between the clouds, able to see the stars, but not close enough to touch. I ponder what the last few days of this year shall bring, and I pray that if anything, at least some clarity and sense of closure. Maybe even a promise of something new, of something better, more profound and surely more real. Something quieter, that most won't even notice. Yet it will be my writing on the wall. I am still here, and I want to be heard. And perhaps ... not so very alone.

All I do is watch and cry...

I only wanted to have fun,

learning to fly,

learning to run.

I let my heart decide the way,

when I was young.

Deep down I must have always known

that this would be inevitable.

To earn my stripes I'd have to pay,

and bear my soul

I know I'm not the only one,

who regrets the things they've done.

Sometimes I just feel it's only me,

who can't stand the reflection that they see.

I wish I could live a little more,

and look up to the sky, not just the floor.

I try to think of things to say...

Nobody will ever take your place...

He knew that you would move on eventually - someone like you would have no trouble doing that. And while he is sure that parting ways was right, it still stung a bit when he was hit with the realisation that as of now, someone else is your everything, like he once was. But what lingers the most, is simply coming to terms with the fact that he is destined to be alone, while he sees those he left behind soar to new heights. He won't forget you though, he never does - especially those who had an impact on his journey, and your collision might have just left the biggest echo yet. For memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces. So as he lays here and reminisces about what could have been, he quickly dries his tears, and promises that he will try again tomorrow.

You still keep me up all night...

Rabm čas zase,

da se vase razblinem,

da zginem,

da me ni.

It was a mistake. It was a mistake not making a clear and clean cut. Boundaries were crossed, and I find myself reverting back into old patterns. Feeling like this is not acceptable, because I found that it's effortless to let go of self-absorbed people. It's challenging to move forward from someone you care about and it's exceedingly difficult to let go of an ideal and a belief in someone because what exacerbates the disappointment of finding out they weren't who they presented themselves to be, is the betrayal of it. So from now forward, I won't expect anything in return, and I won't expect my efforts to be appreciated, my potential genius to be discovered, my love to be understood. I will shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust. I will stop being who I was, and change into who I am.

To earn my stripes I'd have to pay...

 

Hold me closer until our eyes meet...

I can't believe I've been doing this for as long as I have. While time rushes by, friends leave, lovers break my heart and family crumbles, all of you and what we created seems to be my only constant. Writing words no one reads, and reading words I've already written, can ease my pain even when the windows shutter from the rain and thunder raging outside. Here I feel safe - like there is nothing I could do to fail. The outside world gets really hard at certain points, but it's truly the only thing that makes me burst from life. Sometimes I have to run home, just so I can pour my heart into sentences that have somehow already been composed. I miss out on chances, only to find myself not giving them a second thought, because against all odds, I'm happiest when I'm alone and with all of you.

We are here and we are writers, because someone needs to tell these tales. Those when the battles of love are fought and won and lost. There is magic in our bits of overlapping narrative, never forget that. Because it's in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is our role, our gift. Others, who do not bear this curse, are far more likely to survive into the future, but we have the power to shape it. Do not forget that, I beg you, for there are many kinds of magic, after all.

Life is a party to be thrown...

Make lots of noise,

when you're the straight and narrow,

follow your arrow

wherever it points.

Inside these pages you just hold me...

It has now officially begun. No more tears for lost love - only the path forward, paved with countless and unpredictable turmoil. This is the part where I'll do the most growing, and as time will pass, I shall be able to fully grasp what was left behind. But I guess maturity is about being able to walk away from people and situations that threaten your peace of mind. self-worth and morals. If anything, I'm at least proud of myself for being able to do that. People who make you feel like you aren't deserving of love, are in fact, not deserving of yours, and the sooner you accept that, the quicker you can move on to new things. Better things. Those that don't bring discomfort or sadness, but simply a calming sense of satisfaction. I might never get the love story I dream of, but I guess that's just fine, because if nothing else, I'll at least never stop trying.

Replacing what I gave away...

Wait for me to come home...

I still remember how you kissed me.

He no longer dreams about a future where you will once more hold him in your arms, yet as time passes by, he starts remembering all the reason he loved you, and those that tore you apart seamlessly fade away. What he is left with is a story that is perhaps only written once in our lives. A love that transcended reason, and surely because of that was doomed from the start. He remembers you so fondly and while you have become a stranger, a part of his soul will always be attached to yours. In truth, you were his first everything, and for that reason alone you will forever hold a part of his heart, even though you were responsible for crushing it in the first place. While time should heal all wounds, he hopes that you shall remain a scar for eternity - reminding him that love is possible even in the most impossible circumstances. He will keep the memories inside the pocket of his ripped jeans, and slowly move forward, never quite the same again.

Underneath it all, we're just savages...

Life is passing me by. I can't seem to focus, and I simultaneously have the feeling that I'm overwhelmed and that I'm not doing nearly enough. It's a strange time, full of contradictions. On one hand, I'm actually happier and lighter than I've ever been, and for a while now that scared me. I was certain that something was wrong with me, because I wasn't more sad, and that loneliness didn't have a bigger impact on me, yet all I feel, as I settle into my current circumstances, is ease and enlightenment. While I didn't necessary chose to be here, I find it incredible that it was exactly what I needed, and if I'm honest with myself, what I truly wanted - deep down inside at least. Some of us were just built to constantly take different shapes while we navigate through life, and with each rebirth we grow a little taller. Perhaps some day to heights that will allow us to simply raise our hands, and grab the moon by its throat.

Driving through the night...

When we were young...

Suitcase, band-aids,

pulling back out the driveway.

You go, I'll stay,

you can keep all the memories.

I thought I was the best thing that ever happened to you?

I thought you loved me the most?

I don't know why I cry,

but I think it's cause I remembered for the first time,

since I hated you that I used to love you.

Alone in the dark with a hole in my heart...

Learning to fly, learning to run...

Shots were fired and he was caught in the middle. Life has a way of twisting even the happiest of moments into future memories of sadness and regret. Things were supposed to be simpler, clearer, yet as always people cannot shed their skin, and blood was spilled. As he tried to mend their wounds, it was quickly reaffirmed that band-aids can't fix bullet holes, and all he can do is plead his case and hope his efforts aren't in vain. He wonders if they'll ever appreciate his words and all he has sacrificed,  while knowing that none of this is in fact about him. When there is nothing left to do but flee, the walk home seams unbearable. There are friends he could call, who would listen and understand, but such pain can only be cured by something greater and more profound. As he catches himself wishing he wasn't so alone, he is suddenly struck by the realisation that he survived despite his loneliness and that perhaps all he needs, all he'll ever need is stars to guide his way, and that stupid same old grin on his face.

Still learning how to crawl...

There’s so much more to life than finding someone who will want you, or being sad over someone who doesn't. There’s a lot of wonderful time to be spent discovering yourself without hoping someone will fall in love with you along the way, and it doesn't need to be painful or empty. You need to fill yourself up with love. Not anyone else. Become a whole being on your own. Go on adventures, fall asleep in the woods with friends, wander around the city at night, sit in a coffee shop on your own, write on bathroom stalls, leave notes in library books, dress up for yourself, give to others, smile a lot. Do all things with love, but don't romanticize life like you can’t survive without it. Live for yourself and be happy on your own. It isn't any less beautiful, I promise.

Driving out of the city...

Preveč je vsega in mene premalo.

He lays down his arms, falls to his knees and admits defeat. He has failed quite unlike ever before, and in ways he didn't think possible. As he gazes forward he is unsure that circumstances could ever mould in his favour. The strands of time and life strengthen their grip, and he is left with the simple realisation that he is far from perfect. He did his best, he really did, but his flawed nature overwhelmed every inch of his body, and he crumbled. Yet however down he may seem, know that this is not the end. One day, when the stars align and the moon shall shine bright, he will try again. He will try again and fail better.

The stars are falling...

But all this driving

is driving me crazy,

and all this moving

is proving to get the best of me,

and I've been trying to hide it

but lately every time I think I'm better

I'm picking my head up, getting nowhere.

Take me back to the basics and the simple life.

Tell me all of the things that make you feel at ease -

your touch, my comfort, and my lullaby,

holding' on tight and sleeping at night.

Even heaven can't help me now...

Going head to head with my addictions is far harder than I thought. Am I a failure if I fail? Am I a coward - someone who'd rather run away and cower in the face of adversity, than stand firmly as he is bombarded by demons unknown? These times are the hardest, because they force us to experience them. The past has already been overcome, and the future is too abstract to take seriously. All I have is now, and the now I'm living is in constant flux. At moments I feel as if the entire world is at my feet, while at others I can barely contain myself from imploding. I'm scared that I'm going to lose more people along the way. That somehow the path ahead is far more lonesome than I ever imagined. I guess only time will tell, and as I brace for impact, I beg that you'll remember me - even if it's just in your wildest dreams.

Red lips and rosy cheeks...

My wildest dreams...

As I start adjusting to my new life, I find it surprising how easy it seems, and as I walked home with a lightness in my step that I've never felt before, I think I finally found out why. The thing is, I'm not adapting to a new existence, I'm merely settling back into the one I ran away from when I embarked on this journey of self-discovery all those years ago. I guess I had to go on that roller-coaster ride to realise I was never truly lost in the first place. I always knew who I was, I simply needed to be sure, and the only way to do that, was to go through all the emotions and people that enveloped my path. I could apologise for the damage I've done while I was searching for something that was never misplaced, but I won't, because as the sun goes down, I am certain that life has never made more sense, and it never glowed as bright as it does right now.

He can't quite grasp it, but there has been a drastic shift. As if the tectonic plates of Earth have moved and completely changed his trajectory. If you'd ask him just a few days ago, how he was, he'd smile and feign something positive - now he can't stop laughing, even listening to the saddest of songs and reading the most wrenching of words. He doesn't even try to explain it or wonder what happened - who said what and who didn't. Such moments are to be cherished for he knows that they seldom last. Perhaps this time it will be different. Maybe he had to go through all that anxiety and pain to reach a higher level of being. One he only imagined, but is now so engorged with that it feels stupid to question or fight. He ponders if this is what it means to accept the life you are given and take pleasure in knowing that while it might not be everything you want, it might just be exactly what you need.

I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything...

Survival of the fittest...

Sonce bo moje srce.

It hurts to let go. Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you seam small and stupid because it's so hard to keep it inside, and then when you let it out and it doesn't come back, it damages you in ways you can't even imagine . You're left so alone, yet there is no attainable reason. What was once self-explanatory is now something you cannot grasp. Your true love becomes a stranger. Your friend becomes your enemy. Damn, there's nothing like that, is there?

We're running out of time...

Hello, it's me. I was wondering

if after all these years you'd like to meet to go over everything?

They say that time's supposed to heal,

but I ain't done much healing.

Hello, can you hear me?

I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be

when we were younger and free.

I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet,

but at least I can say that I've tried 

to tell you I'm sorry, for breaking your heart,

but it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore.

Our lives don't collide...

People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Never, it would be too painful. They come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave. A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life - that's what you did for me, and simply put, I'll be forever grateful.

I'm sorry for breaking your heart...

The world fell at our feet...

Isn't it funny how the memories you cherish before a breakup can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the sun and view from every angle - it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day. It's not an act of bitterness. It's an act of self-preservation. Because it's not always a bad idea to stay behind the window and look out at life instead, is it? It scares me how hard it is to remember life before you. I can't even make the comparisons anymore, because my memories of that time have all the depth of a photograph. It seems foolish to play games of better and worse. It's simply a matter of is and is no longer, and never will be again.

Hello from the other side...

I've never been good at letting go of people who let go of me. It's become sort of my curse to obsess about those who have long forgotten my voice. I have tried to grow beyond, but it always seems to take hold of me when I least expect it. I guess I'd be bored without it, and as I'm sure you know, I'll stick to anything that allows me to put words onto paper, even if it breaks my heart. So as life rushes by, I find sweet serenity in knowing that my existence is but an insignificant glimpse - a shooting star seen only for a moment, and then instantly forgotten. I will live, I shall write and then I will die. As simple as that.

A profound, resonating echo fills his thoughts, making him stop and calm his mind. He takes in a deep breath, and then slowly exhales. He continues to do so until his fingers shiver - sending a quiet shock through his spine and into his soul. The high pitch sound in his head slowly softens. He carefully takes another step, hoping the agonising screech doesn't spike up again. While barely heard, there it is, somewhere in the background. He hears it almost as a sinister laugh, mocking him, and making it seem like it will never truly disappear. If he were younger he would be angry, yet if life has taught him anything, it's that some things never change. While it yet remains, he is able to continue his long walk home - accepting that the voices will always be by his side, reminding him where he's been, and how far he still needs to go.

Stuck on the bridge between us...

I wanna hold hands with you,

that's all I wanna do right now.

And I wanna get close to you,

because your hands and lips still know their way around.

And I know I like to draw at night; it starts to get surreal,

but the less time that I spend with you, the less you need to heal.

I'll never be alone...

Just talking to myself...

You said you found a place where we could escape to. Somewhere where there wasn't a single soul to disturb our meditations. A place covered in sand and was blooming with grasslands. Somewhere where we could come alive again. It is there that you told me that life is painful and messed up. That it gets complicated at the worst of times, and sometimes you have no idea where to go or what to do. You warned me that people just let themselves get washed away, dropping into a wide open, huge abyss. Without you uttering a single word, I knew that's why we have to keep trying. You looked into my eyes, and said that the things that hurt us are the things that make us strongest. At that moment we both realised that a life without experience, is no life at all. We took each other's hand and made a promise right there and then that even when it hurts, we'll never stop ourselves from living.

Don't worry no more...

His catalytic collision...

Breathing has never felt harder. As I duck for cover from the latest onslaught of distractions thrown my way, I realise I haven't had a moment to myself in what seems like forever. I have forgotten what it means to be myself, to gaze in the mirror and imagine a world where my reflection would dance to the rhythm of my beating heart. A radical detox could be the only true remedy, and I am counting the seconds until I can set sail for calmer waters and friendlier seas. I have only so much to give, and in the wake of my dismemberment, I cannot give away something I do not have, and as always, life demands so much more.

To love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it and everything you've held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands, with your throat filled with the silt of it. When grief sits with you, its tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs; when grief weights you like your own flesh only more of it, an obesity of grief, you think: "How can a body withstand this?" Then you hold life like a face between your palms. A plain face. No charming smile. No violet eyes. And you say: "Yes, I will take you. I will love you, I will love you again."

At least I'll stay forever young...

I am tired of this place, I hope people change.

I need time to replace what I gave away,

and my hopes, they are high, I must keep them small.

Though I try to resist I still want it all.

I see swimming pools and living rooms and aeroplanes.

I see a little house on the hill and children’s names.

I see quiet nights poured over ice and Tanqueray.

But everything is shattering and it’s my mistake.

Only fools do what I do...

I am being overwhelmed, just like I suspected I would. Past wounds have yet to heal, yet life offers me no chance to recuperate and mend what was broken. It rushes ahead, making sure I can't even catch my breath, simply walking forward one step at a time. Thrusting oneself towards an uncertain future usually has that effect, I only wonder if perhaps this time I won't be able to handle it. Not once have I been so close to the steps that could lead me to every dream I've ever dreamt - I guess that's why I'm putting so much pressure on myself. In hindsight, love was meaningless, and the pain I feel because of it, is just a sign how much more I have to grow. The goal has yet to be more clear, and who I was, when I achieved my heart's desire, is slowly but surely taking shape once more. But this time around I shall be calmer. Gentler. Wiser. And as ruthless as you've never seen me before.

Time to replace what I gave away...

Say you'll remember...

How do you look at the person you love

and tell yourself it's time to walk away?

Life is all about moments of impact and how they changes our lives forever. The moment where you are thrust towards your destiny and midway collide with another, pushing you into directions you never thought possible. Such moments prove to have the greatest potential for change. Its ripples effect far beyond what we can predict - sending some particles crashing together, altering everything we were sure we knew and positioning some closer than before. It sends some molecules spinning off into great ventures, across the universe and into the void, landing in spaces not yet discovered. That's the thing about moments like these. You can't, no matter how hard you try, control how they are going to affect you. You just have to let the colliding parts go where they may, and then wait for the next collision.

Picturing the disappearing world...

Words to cry to...

He is slowly regaining fragments of himself he thought were long gone. His loneliness allows him to re-examine the past. To re-evaluate everything that was done to him, and everything he did to others. This journey will not be easy, for the emotions he is feeling are fresh and completely new. He truly held a heart, and his was held in turn, and even though his lies shattered on the ground, he knows that somehow, against all odds, it will rebuild. Perhaps into something no one has ever seen before. A beating vessel able to overcome even the greatest of encumbrance, steady and firm as it is bombarded by anyone who might claim it next. There are no thoughts of the future, no dreams of how he'll one day find resolution for the chaos that runs amok in his soul. There is only a slight calm and serenity in realising that even though he failed, he cannot be too sad, because above all else, what he felt was real.

Sorry to keep you after you were already gone...

When I take a picture of the city, it disappears.

It's only a photograph, the city is gone.

The places I go are never there.

Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.

I can only picture the disappearing world,

when you touch me.

The places I go are never there.

A tear for the vulnerable...

Most often our greatest and saddest moments come blazing at us at unison. It's sort of a miracle of the heart to nurture happiness and agony - reminiscing about a past long gone. The spectres of who we used to be haunt us, and yet we still can't decide if the pain they caused us out-weighs the tender moments when they touched our soul. This is the irony of love. Because the battle you are going through is not fuelled by the words or actions of others; it is fuelled by the mind that gives it importance. So as many times before I stand at a precipice of a decision. When you know there will forever be a before and an After. I knew there would be no turning back if I designated this moment as my own prime meridian from which everything else would be measured. The cards have been dealt, all there is left to do, is play the hand I was given. Play it with everything I have.

Thursday - waiting for love, waiting for love...

Sometimes you go to beautiful places with people you love, to find yourself falling for them once again, and sometimes you go to places, and fall in with the beauty around you, and find yourself moving on, because in that moment you know that you've fallen in love with something bigger than love. 

You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analysing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened, should have happened. You can spend your days in worry and stress about what the person who left you behind is doing and thinking. If they ever pine and regret that you are no longer part of their lives. You can throw away days concocting scenarios in your head, how you'll one day meet again, and somehow find each other once more. You can do all those things and slowly kill yourself or you can just leave the shattered pieces of all you once were on the floor and move the fuck on.

Wednesday my empty arms were open...

Tuesday I was through with hoping...

It's time to start getting over you. For days now, a stone had been sitting on my heart, making it so heavy I could barely breathe. I shed a lot of tears over you, lost a lot of sleep, and consumed any substance life threw my way. Somehow, I have to move on. Life will be hell if I don't shake loose from the grip you have over me. I most definitely don't want to keep feeling this way, alone in a love affair meant for two. Even if I was certain you were the one, and even if I always thought we'd end up together. Even if you still have a choke chain on my soul, and not an hour goes by that you don't rush through my mind. Even after all these things, I know I have no other choice but to get out of my bed, rise up towards the sun, and start walking towards something - anything at all.

Monday left me broken...