I don’t have any urges or a desire to kill myself at the moment, and its so weird but I’m so happy because of it and it’s such a foreign feeling but I could definitely get used to it! 😊 yay for recovery!
I asked you, ‘Tell me about her.’ And you looked me in the eyes and replied, ‘Well, what do you want to know?’ and that’s the exact moment I knew you didn’t love her, not really. See, if you did you would’ve gone on about how her voice is now your favorite sound. That when she is next to another women their beauty doesn’t even compare to hers. How even when she steals the blankets at 3am you’re just glad she’s warm. That when she touches you, even slightly, it causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand. How when you kiss you don’t know whose air your breathing but you know that all you want is to be there in that moment forever. That you can see yourself having three children and a dog in a beautiful house someday soon. How her eyes are pure and truthful and when you look into them all you feel is happiness. That her laugh is what you live for even though it’s loud and obnoxious. How looking at her makes all the bad seem okay. You would’ve gone on a rant about her without hesitation, like the way I do when someone asks me why I still love you.
I’m tired… I’m so tired. I thought I just needed a night’s sleep, but it’s more than that.
Let’s raise children who wont have to recover from their childhoods
THIS IS SO IMPORTANT I STOPPED BREATHING
There’s two types of anger one is dry and the other wet and basically wet anger is when your eyes water and your voice shakes and I hate that cause I feel weak when I’m crying while angry I like dry anger when your face is like stone and your voice is sharp I guess wet anger shows that you care too much and dry anger means you’re done.
This is the best description ever
In school they teach you
how to multiply 9x8
make you read Macbeth
and have you memorize the first 10 amendments to the constitution.
But they don’t teach you how to
stop loving someone who has
stopped loving you
or how to deal with losing
a friend to an unsaid goodbye
and a relative to a cancer that ate
away their brain.
At home I learned
from my father that
alcohol can make as many problems
as it solves
but damn does it feel good
to let my throat burn instead of my heart
and to tune out the problems in my head
that I just couldn’t solve.
Because life isn’t 9x8
and it isn’t the way authors describe
their characters in a story.
It’s those nights you lay awake
wishing things could be different
and it’s the next day when you realize they can’t
and then it’s how you pick yourself up
after being down for so long.