I cried so hard I thought I was gonna ralph. Gosh, I knew there was a reason I avoid emotions
I like when people use me as a shoulder to cry on. I like holding them together.
This issue is that there is no reciprocation. I refuse to lean on anyone. I don’t like being held.
Being wildly unhappy is getting old.
every person who reblogs this i will write your url/name down in a book titled “PEOPLE WHO THINK YOU SHOULD HAVE WON AN OSCAR” and send it to Leonardo DiCaprio
Here it is. The what-should-be final step in the process of moving on and getting over him. It’s a long shot and I’ll be proud if I make it a week before caving. But we all have weak spots.
This is a promise to myself. A promise to move forward. A promise to stop missing him because what’s passed is past. An agreement with my mouth and mind, stop mentioning his name in passing. Don’t bring up a story to tell as a filler. Don’t make associations that need not exist. I have to be strong and leave him where he belongs, in my memories.
That doesn’t mean I can’t smile at the memories and tell the stories in the future. The impossible future in which he holds no power. When I no longer need him, when I have no desire for him, when the thought of him doesn’t make me ache. When the thought of him with someone else doesn’t makes me sick. The hopeful future in which I will be happy without him instead of gutted like I am now. In the future when I don’t think twice and refuse to cry myself to sleep over him.
Until that day, whenever it graces me with its presence, I will keep his name off my tongue. My thoughts will be filled with objects of my affection. My hands will be kept to myself. And I will experience happiness, after being without it for far, far too long.