Reason.

I’ve always thought that people enter your life for a reason.

That they wouldn’t exist in your immediate surroundings if they weren’t meant to teach you some kind of epic life lesson, as though each person tells a new tale, and weaves themselves a chapter that makes the entire story beautiful.

The good, the bad, and the ugly; it’s all meant to be.

And that’s why it hurts, because agony is merely a treasury trove of memories and happiness is fleeting but the people who cause both will forever mark your heart.

They remain inscribed inside the crevices of your heart, forever tiny little letters that cause you to skip a beat every time they are said out loud.

People are merely a passageway to your ultimate exhilaration, to a happiness that’s forever and a settling that you can only dream about.

Yet we give them too much importance. We forget that everyone is indispensable, a sort of trading system; in with the old, out with the new. And just as you recycle yourself, new people fit like puzzle pieces and leave you moments you can never forget.

They do not make you. You must remember that what they do or say to you, hardly makes you who you are. It’s never who you are.

You make yourself. Nobody else can take that away, and nobody else should, it is a right that has been burnt into your soul. Never let anyone take away who you are.

Stop destroying yourself to make everyone happy, it’ll never bring anything but despair.

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Staying.

i’m often undeserving of the love my friends give me. so completely unconditional, filled with such deep warmth that i cannot imagine how life would be without them.

i’ve learned to always pick carefully when i want to have people in my life. that knowing they’re the ones that’ll constantly guide me will be enough for my heart to fill part of it’s emptiness. i’m sure enough that love isn’t always what i think it is. it’s always more than just romance.

it’s like a deep connection, a bond that may or may not eventually break into two. but the memories you share, the worlds that you make together are always there, floating in the air, making it easy to reminisce about the days you spent crafting each other’s energies into one.

i know that this may not make sense, but when a friend leaves, the hurt will always stay. the hurt of a breakup will fade, but when a friend leaves, it’s like a small part of your soul has been chipped off. like the universe is carving your soul into something but the pain of the incision will always remain.

they go so easily, you see. disappear like they never meant anything to you. you see them around sometimes. you really don’t know who they’ve become. that’s the funny part about all this, the fact that when they leave you, you have no idea how they could change so much.

i imagine that broken friendships drift off into another universe. that there they prosper, unlike they did here. some people are toxic, so we raise the roof with joy that they have left us, but can’t help but feel a twinge of pain every time they’re mentioned to us. it’s almost funny how the same thing happens when you hear the name of an ex, who seems to be happy and you seem to… well not.

it’s always full circle, that’s what life is. an up and a down, a loss and a gain. you always lose someone to gain someone. i have lost many. but those i have gained and those who have stayed are those my heart will forever be indebted to.

that’s what love is, i think. staying.

Recovery.

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I realize that the love I deserve is much larger than the love you reluctantly hand out. And I’m tired of compromising, I’m tired of telling myself that it’ll get better, because I know that it won’t. I have searched for the answer in myself, and I know it.

I should’ve known the moment I saw the way you look at her.

She won’t pick up your pieces. She can’t fix you, you are broken beyond repair and you look for surrogates to hold your pain but you will never understand how it feels to conquer the sinking of your heart. She can’t help you, because she won’t. She doesn’t care. She never will.

I refuse to sit by and watch you allow yourself to be captivated by a lost cause because she is. And you are.

I am in awe at your ability to break those who have faith in you. Those who would go to the end of the world to save you. Those that would never doubt you. I am in awe at your ability to spite them.

You refuse to think of consequences, life is just a game, and you don’t know what to do or what to say. I’m not the only one that’s tired of your need to break those who would sacrifice for you. I am stranded with the ache of your confusion, and I know that my heart cannot contain your restlessness.

However, I’m shocked at my ability to feel the need to rescue you. Forget rescue you, rescue myself. Being around you was enough to make me let my guard down, to give up all thoughts of sense, to give up every emotion I had worked so hard to compress.

Why am I not capable of understanding that you can’t fix me? It’s not just you. No one can fix me. I cannot allow you to be a stepping stone to the goal of my survival. I am not a half that needs to become whole. I am already complete.

Everyone I’ve ever loved has been a way for me to fix myself. I have seen my pain as a beautiful tragedy, and love as my bitter remedy. I’ve realized now that if I keep my heart open, the price I’ll have to pay will consume me. Even the broken pieces of my mind and soul will turn to dust eventually. And after years of searching for the answer to my emptiness, I know it now.

You cannot be wrapped in a whirlwind of intense amour if you aren’t besotted with the complete being that you are.

Impulsive.

He’s too shy to tell you. He’s got a heart that blazes for every inch of you, but he will never tell you of how his mind is seeped with thoughts of the sweet nectar that you speak, of the waves that ripple through your hair, of the love that he wants but is too afraid to ask for. 

He’s never going to tell you. You look through your conversations as if this time he’s going to tell you that he loves you but you know those words will never leave his soul. He’s trapped in his own worst fear, and you solemnly acknowledge that even if you say something, he’d never say anything back.

We’re all too scared to tell the people we love how we feel. We’re always hesitating, as if anything bad could ever come from giving love to people instead of the hate that is prevalent in this dismal world. 

Rejection is our only fear, it is the only barrier that keeps us away from bliss and it is tiring. It’s tiring that he won’t tell you how he feels, or that she didn’t kiss you when she had the chance, because what if we stop being friends? What if the whole world finds out?

It’s as though letting people know our happiness is a disaster, but it seems to have become so, and there’s nothing we can do. As though life could end if people found out about the truth, as though there’s a death wish in being passionate. 

There is nothing and no one that can discount your feelings except for you, because when will you realise that love is fickle but it’s meant to be, and if you don’t say something now, you probably never will. 

It’s never been difficult to be impulsive in anger. Why should it be difficult in brazen, unapologetic and beautiful love? 

It shouldn’t.