I wanted to draw the line, and
I felt that was excruciating. I wonder
at the idea of how did things did not worked. I thought facing the truth head
on will shed light. But brokenness went in and I have no clear back up on how
to navigate in the crazy turns.
I felt hope flew, telling me
to let go.
I wanted to retreat, to go
back to the comforts of my own walls, plastered with goals not with pictures of
the memories that cut through my melancholic soul.
I wanted reprieve.
I wanted reprieve.
I needed saving from the insanity
that these feelings are causing me.
I’m lost in the familiarity of
things.
I’m lost in the memories that
I wished to continue.
I’m lost in these memories
that I longed to be repeated.
I’m looking for my sanity in places that are so familiar to me.
I’m looking for my sanity in places that are so familiar to me.
And it hit me; to move forward
is to acknowledge the effects of the action.
It was never I thought it would be.
The hurt will hurt unless you face it that it hurts. Painful, it is. And that is the point where you draw the line.
You pick up pieces of yourself and patch it. Sew it together with wallpapers filled with memories that you thought are but otherwise.
It was never I thought it would be.
The hurt will hurt unless you face it that it hurts. Painful, it is. And that is the point where you draw the line.
You pick up pieces of yourself and patch it. Sew it together with wallpapers filled with memories that you thought are but otherwise.
I will never be the strong
person I wanted to be, not now, but soon.
I’m painting that line now.
