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.

I’m afraid if you don’t stay with me tonight, I may take my own life. It’s crucial that you stay.

I’m in love with you, desperately and hopelessly. Beyond reason, beyond sanity, I am completely yours; every ounce of me, till the last drop.

A part of me refuses to breath without you at sight. This feels like a growing obsession, a cry for possession. You have immense power over me.

I see how half-hearted your love is, I see it and I weep.

Ever shattered yourself beside someone while they lay inches from you and you couldn’t explain why? The subtle hints that you read too much into, the little things that had made you want to come back were no longer there. You expect a person to change, to customize themselves as you please but in the end you don’t always get everything you want in a person. With changes you lose some of the most desired qualities. Once you lose a person it’s never the exact same person who comes back. And you wonder if you’d done the right thing? You wonder what if they no longer feel the same but are so used to the idea of wanting you they haven’t realized it yet. Only time will tell.

Dwelling in nostalgia from a time my body felt younger and heart; less heavier.

I can’t sleep in my bed anymore, the sheets smell of you.

Is it true, am I nothing more than a muse?

A stopover right before you head home to your rightful one.