I remember crying over you and I don’t mean a couple of tears and I’m blue. I’m talking about collapsing and screaming at the moon.

I love you—I do—but I am afraid of making that love too important. Because you’re always going to leave me. We can’t deny it. You’re always going to leave.

What they don’t tell you: Self care sometimes isn’t fun. It’s going to class even when you want to stay in bed and rest. It’s paying bills on time and running errands even when every strand of your being cant stand it. It’s going to therapy and taking your medicine even when you don’t want to. It’s using coping skills even when going back to self destructive ones seems more appealing.

I really thought you were going to come back. I’m still hoping that you will.

Did you mean