Writing has been my way of looking back. I’m no writer, but I write to remember. To remember how a certain person or a place made me feel. When the years go by and we are both strangers I’ll have a piece of writing that’ll remind me of how I felt when I knew you, word to word. I love rereading old conversations and I definitely love going through old memories. I live to reminisce. What’s funny is, good memories and good times are found okay to be written about. But the bad ones aren’t. Ive never lived by the rules and I do not hesitate to write about the bad, ugly and horrible. Why only choose to look at the good when the bad exists equally? Why only remember the time you fell in love and not the time you barely survived of heartbreak. Why deny the amount of pain people cause you when you appreciate their presence. Do you not want to remember how you turned this cold? I do. Because I wasn’t like this. What I am today is someone I never thought I’d be, even as a person. I’m a wreck of what I used to be.
I don’t care about this world, I care about mine & that exists of me only.

I was a fool every time I thought I may have found someone to share this world of mine with. Hopeful blind and giddy, only to be shot down at the same old wound until I lay breathless. But that’ll never show. Because baby, this smile is all I’ve got and I ain’t losing this.

To love, you need to understand, you cannot love something you don’t understand. I’ve made my peace with this. I’m not for this world, I’m not for the people of this world. I’m my own and someday, I’ll be okay with it. Meanwhile I’ll love less and need less.