I'm holding my tongue, mostly, to stop myself from saying things before I'm sure I mean them. But I mean that I realise that that place isn't mine anymore. It only was for a few weeks in the beginning and then a few more near the end of my time. It belongs to people who are willing to forgive and forget easily and gracefully, it belongs to people who can share everything that belongs to them. I am neither of these things. I am someone who wants a few things that are only mine and when they are not, I want to hurt over it until someone recognises what hurts me.
I won't find that there. I won't find that anywhere.
It's an odd contradiction to waste such exorbitant amounts of time seeking pain so that you might need to be consoled. Or better yet, won't be consoled and can exist in a perpetual sulk.
It's probably time for me to go - I always have a hard time detaching from what hurts me. I like the old familiar feelings, even as they break me apart. Familiarity is comforting. I wonder when I'll ever have the courage to stop wallowing.
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