;

“I am so afraid of disappointing the people I love, I often forget that I am someone I love too. And I need kindness just as much as I believe the people I love do.”

most days i am a museum of things i want to forget.

Before you speak, ask yourself: is it kind, is it necessary, is it true, does it improve on the silence?

I hate that I have to keep reminding myself that I am an adult. I hate that I don’t know what that means.

Every day you’re not here is another day we could have been laughing together.

You silly little girl, you think you’ve survived so long survival shouldn’t hurt anymore. You keep trying to turn your body bulletproof. You keep trying to turn your heart bomb shelter. Stop, darling. You are soft and alive. You bruise and heal. Cherish it. It is what you were born to do. It will not be beautiful, but the truth never is. Come now, you promised yourself. You promised you’d live through this.

I wanted to say something: “I’m sorry,” or perhaps “fuck you.” I wanted to say, “I let you in and you abused that position of trust.” But no no no. I wanted to say, “kiss me please please, we can forget everything.” Or maybe, maybe I just wanted to say, “I forgive you. You’re not sorry but I still forgive you.