I remember exactly how it happened, I was Nineteen years old.
I was young but I told myself that this is going to be the last time.
Honestly, I’ve tried again since then but its never been the same. A different type of emptiness took over, and I started satisfying myself with other things-drugs, alcohol and sex.
I feel like we all go through the same motions, some people just come to a halt earlier than others. Dating, situationships, flings, and one night stands are all necessities to find out who we really are and what we want in life.
How do you know how to love if you you’ve never been heartbroken? Or have been the heartbreaker.
You may not agree, but you can’t truly enjoy the sun if you don’t know what it feels like to be cold as fuck-or too damn hot.
Anyway, back to the original subject. Yeah I loved her. I loved her more than I loved myself. I think that’s why I don’t have much of myself left. Just untold stories that keep me entertained in the meantime.
No, I don’t want her back, and honestly I never want to feel like that again.
That I’m sprung teenage fever love.
Do you grow out of that? From love-bug caterpillars, to heartbroken cocoons, and finally you fly free. Alone, or you become one of those butterflies that always made your stomach turn.
Parts of you that you really can’t let go even if you wanted to. The messed up part is people see traces of what used to be in you, your potential, thinking they can cultivate what’s left and help it grow. I mean that’s what makes you who you are right?
I guess I’m asking because I still don’t know, and I still feel the feels, whether it’s the scars, or the lingering feeling of emptiness. Or the satisfactions that aren’t as satisfying anymore.
Makes you wonder when will it end, or when you will be able to finally let it go.
If thats what you’re supposed to do anyway.