The girl next door.

I’m smiling again, but this time I know why. I’m living again, but this time I am aware. I’ve come a long way to get here. I’m finally awake.

I’ve always only been able to love people for the bad, for the secrets in their palms, for the matching knives in our backs, for the bitterness they hold onto like a lifeline, but I loved you for the good. Until I got a taste of something darker. You can take the monsters away from the girl and take the girl away from the monsters but you can’t take the monster out of the girl. I would have loved the delicate way you tore me open, been awed by the beauty of it, if I didn’t so desperately want to keep your soft pieces soft. Not everyone should have razor blade skin. I thought you understood that. I hoped at the very least you would jolt me into caring about myself, but all I could think about was a more elegant way to come undone. It isn’t your fault I’m not whole, but within my brokenness there was love, and now I don’t know if I can stomach giving it to anyone else.

“This is what I like about photographs. They’re proof that once, even if just for a heartbeat, everything was perfect.”

I still love the people I’ve loved, even if I cross the street to avoid them.

there’s a difference between