i don’t want to believe anymore. and i know one of these days i won’t be there for you.
and i don’t want to try to understand how even just the littlest thing affects me. every effing thing reminds me of you. i know almost 5 (give or take 13) years is a long time but come on! i want to move on now.
and i could, and i would. except that, i don’t think this is the right time for it though.
i kinda lost myself somewhere. in your life, i think. we had an impromptu ending. we never could’ve made it any better, had we been given enough time.
i hate how i get all this queasy feeling every time i hear that song from/watch/see/read anything from that movie ONE MORE CHANCE.
boo me. poor me. blah me.
i guess i just miss us still. and i think that’s an improvement from me missing you. now i just miss us. hopefully, it’ll turn to me just missing me.
this is the latin phrase i plan to have inked on my side. i just wish letting someone stay in your life is as easy as having them tattooed on your body - they would look good and they won’t ever be erased. ever.
“And it came to me then. That we were wonderful traveling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they’re nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we’d be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing.”— Haruki Murakami (Sputnik Sweetheart)