When I get hurt I feel like this: I feel dread, and panic. Fear of the unknown, suspecting the worse. I feel like holding on to that last shred of hope despite the fact that it will prolong the hurt. I feel my feeble self-esteem plummet like a rock as insecurities set in. I feel like begging for things to return to their previous state. I attempt to pretend that it’s not all over when I suspect the end has been reached. I pretend this is the exception. That things will change. That the future will bring a magic solution. But even in my head I know these are lies. I feel like honesty is easier then any other time, because what’s left to lose. Words come easily, clearly, truely. I feel mistreated, led on. I feel like eternity won’t bring change. I feel nostalgia. The past seems like a dream, and even yesterday turns fuzzy. I feel despair. A guise of friendship is like aesthetic, but tomorrow will seperate cliche and truth. I feel an eternal battle of sorts. Certain things suddenly feel unattainable, unreal, lost. And this writing is raw and unpoetic. There is no rhythm or flow, just an underlying chant of ‘I thought this time would be different’. However this writing does not to be perfect to suit my purposes. It doesn’t even have to be good. It just says that sometimes feeling suck, but sometimes it’s better to write them out then to hold on to them. They are nothing to feel ashamed of, or to hide. There is no reason to pity me, for it takes bravery to tell your truth when you feel vulnerable. To share your failures. To put yourself out there at all. That is empowerment. And when things don’t work out it sucks. But that’s okay, and it’s all a part of the great balance of things. I am learning, living, growing, and it is not worth it to regret. Learn, move on, remember.

Now you know who I am.