Foolish

When you live your life, continually disappointed, it’s difficult to see the sunshine.

As though there is always an overcast hanging above your every day.

Ok is great, until it’s not. 

I don’t do well with okay or happy or good things.

It makes me uncomfortable.

Gives me a sense of anxiety and unease.

Life hasn’t always been kind.

A fair share of trials and tribulations have come my way.

And what I’ve learned, never expect.

Because expectations begets disappointment and heartbreak.

I was foolish, to think that I would get my happy ending to my story.

That this was it, I finally get the happiness I dreamed off.

I was foolish.

Silly girl.

I should’ve known better.

Heartbreak.

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Nights

Nights are the worst.

It’s when everything is quiet, calm, serene.

It’s when I hear the thoughts of how much I miss you loud and clear.

Nights are the loneliest.

There’s nothing to distract me.

Instead, all I can think of you is how you’re not here.

As I lay down, I turn to an empty spot in the bed.

Nights are the loneliest.

Lucky girl

When I see you, it’s as though you are a stranger.

I don’t know who you are any longer.

You were my best friend.

My confidant.

My lover.

And now, when I catch glimpses of you here and there, it’s as though the person I once knew, no longer exists.

I had a lot of anger for a while. 

From “why is this happening,” to “what can I do to change it, there has to be something,” and “how could he do this.”

I’m still sorting through all of it, little by little, but the anger has slowly subsided, or is subdued.

It took both of us to break us apart. 

But one of us was willing to fight more than the other.

And you chose to give up.

That was a difficult decision to accept, I felt blindsided more the anything, but then I again I was blind to many things.

And here I am, thinking about you. 

Who you are with.

Who you are making happy.

Who you are making love to.

Who is the lucky girl, that gets my happy ending to our story.

And before, these thoughts would consume me.

With anger.

With fear.

With heartache.

But here I sit, wishing you nothing but happiness.

Truly.

I hope you find what it was you did not find with me.

I hope you find your happy ending.

Marriage, kids…those promises are no longer for me, but for someone else.

I would be lying if I said, it doesn’t hurt a little. 

To imagine what could’ve been. 

To think of all the what-ifs.

Or the maybes.

But truly, I wish you will find peace in your life.

You find happiness, true happiness.

The life we wished we had with each other, no longer belongs to us.

And I do, with all the love I have in my heart for you, hope you find what is you didn’t find in me.

I will always love you. 

Okay

Days have passed that feels like weeks.

I feel okay.

It doesn’t hurt as much as it did before, when it felt gut-wrenching, as though my heart was breaking into a billion pieces.

Then again, I don’t really feel anything right now.

Okay as in, numb.

As in, I don’t know where all those feelings have gone. 

Songs, pictures, places, everything that reminds me of you…I no longer feel anything for-maybe I’m choosing not to.

It’s been 6 days since I’ve cried tears for you.

Ever since that Monday in January, when you decided to end things, there was not a day that went by, that I didn’t shed tears. 

And now, it’s been 6 days.

There are stages I read. 

I may be in the beginning of the acceptance stage.

I have put myself through the ringer ever since that wretched day, I allowed you to play with my head.

And maybe, just maybe, I’m starting to finally see…what was, what I thought would be, at this point in time can’t. 

And I am doing my best to be okay with it.

You were my best friend.

My partner in everything.

In the little time we had together, I experienced more than I have in a long time.

But, you chose, not I, but YOU chose, to walk away, to give up. 

And I have to be okay with that.

Whatever that means.

You were home to me

I never felt like I belonged.

With my family.

With my friends.

With the people around me.

It never felt quite right.

As though, I was at the wrong place.

Or with the people.

Then I met you.

And for the first time, I knew what it meant to be home.

They say home is where your heart is.

And you were home to me.

In your arms.

In your warm embrace.

In your smile.

That made me feel at home.

Finally I belonged.

And only if it was for a moment. 

I knew what it felt like.

But here I am, homeless.

Clutching on to the hope, that one day, I find my way back to the place I once called home.

It’s the little things

It’s the little things.

Like when you would hold my hand.

Or kiss my forehead.

Or hug me from behind.

The good morning texts.

The good night texts.

The I love you texts.

The I miss you texts.

I miss caressing that beard.

Or running my hands through your hair.

Or gently scratching your back.

You holding me on the couch.

Cuddling on that bean bag.

Your kisses.

The way you used to look at me.

The feeling between us that was just unexplainable.

It’s the little things.

Missing

I wake up every morning with an emptiness inside me.

Like something is missing.

I roll over in bed and see you are no longer there.

The pit in my stomach worsens.

To be back in your arms.

I am not missing something.

Rather, I am somewhere I don’t belong.

Lost.

On my own.

Craving the comforts of your warm embrace that I called home.