It’s funny when hearts break you do not hear cracks or the muscles pull apart, but it does. At least you feel it does. Endless pain, you can’t stay where it starts or where it ends. Your face, your body. Your lips can barely move & eyes wont blink as they shield a thousand tears.

You lose your appetite. Your life appears meaningless. As if you had only one reason to live. Your numbness only lasts a fair while till you breakdown. You hate yourself. You wanna kill yourself. But then you remember the people you love the most. Thank god you remember. 

We’ve both stopped giving fucks.

Every time I’ve thought this is hard, I know what’s going to come will be even harder. I remind myself of all the things I have learnt to live without. I’ve survived so many things I thought I wouldn’t. And you shall be one of those tragedies I wreck against yet manage to keep going. I’ll bleed against the what if’s and could have been’s. 

I can’t bring myself to come closer to you, not because I don’t want to. But because I can’t.

I am convinced I crave the adrenaline rush of my irrational and impulsive decisions.

Is it possible to love intimacy and yet hate people?

Is it possible to crave adventure and hate the essentials?

I can’t be less me, for you to love me.

Love me fully, in whole. Not in bits and pieces of what I could be. Love me for who I am, as I am. Not for what’s possible.

I am not a project in progress, consider me complete.

If not, I can’t.

People change, evolve and grow. But I’m not growing anymore today. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day, but maybe never too.

What if I don’t grow, will you love me despite?

I was right, I am too much for anyone. 

To be okay enough, I’ve gotta be less of myself. No matter how unfair, this society will never accept me, let alone my man, as I am.