I wanted to believe that I could be loved fully, to sin and be forgiven, to be shielded even from myself. It’s been an unending cycle of trauma and recovery. Why haven’t I been held by someone I can trust will remain if this body should change? Why are my relationships endless giving until I find myself depleted and no longer needed, no longer so beautiful now that my smile has waned? Why will I die never knowing love? I want to understand, God.
humblemagic, writing prompt #70: Hypothetically speaking, make believe it is the last day of what we call home, Earth. What would be your thoughts? How would you spend it? What would be your background soundtrack? (via wnq-writers)