a wound is still a wound, even if it doesn't bleed anymore.
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Being awake to nature
helps us let go of the desire to “be important”
and start looking toward better, kinder goals.
Nature is family.
Family doesn’t want you to be important;
it wants you to be whole.
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it seems i've finally made the decision
to stop waiting for you to change your mind.
for almost a year, i've blamed myself, blinded by hate.
days would go by in a blur, trying to distract myself from the pain.
friends and family, even strangers, pitied my struggles.
it seems the three years we spent together
were much too fickle.
i believe our end came not because of the circumstances,
nor of the distance which made it hard to visit -
instead, i think you and i were simply just unhappy.
it's not that we didn't love each other, quite the opposite,
we just had finally accepted the truth.
you created a version of myself in your mind,
a 'me' you wanted, before we fell in love with one another.
i was too insecure to be that person for you,
so it was only natural to leave me
in order for you to find the right person.
"wrong person, right time."
d.b.a
sorry, i still love you, but i can't take it anymore. i hope they'll be better for you than i was.
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I hear you in the notes of the symphony
That plays deep in the crevices of my soul.
As if I walked through the folds of time
Just to be with you again and again.
Be as you've always been, my love.
I was made to adore you.
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"Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray."
- Elif Shafak, "The Forty Rules of Love."
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You are a cemetery of anguish.
You are dying from the inside out, possibly already dead.
You are a graveyard of tears, pain and guilt.
(and you learned how to water the grass with alcohol)
You are a cemetery where no bodies are buried.
You are a cemetery of nothing.
You are a cemetery for other people,
They bury everything in you
And it haunts you.
I ignore them all.
Your torments,
Your regrets.
They're just ghosts to me.
I ended up becoming a ghost too.
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truth is,
i think about our hands a lot:
yours in mine,
my cold palm pressing
against your warm hand,
our slender fingers intwined
with each other
think about the things
that we can accomplish together
hands were made for
building and creating,
and i cannot wait to see what
my hands can create with yours
— unknown
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