#mourningthoughts

those days

You are home. I love you my friend. Always ❤️ Dang Dang.

It's crazy how we thought we were just doing our own thing acting of our own accord but god was really in control the whole time. This break up has got me thinking more than possibly anything ever before. And I fucking think a lot. God cares so much about his children he won't settle for us settling. And he won't settle for us acting out of our own blind human plans. We can't see shit. God sees it all. I know you broke up with me because you didn't see a future with me and that fucking hurts. A lot. But I'm so thankful for it because we needed to break up so crucially. I HATE this season. I hate not talking to you or growing with you but I see why it has to be this way. Doesn't make me hate it any less. One thing that hurts a lot is that you don't hate it at all. It hurts that I love you so much and you dont feel the same way. It makes me feel unwanted and unworthy. But I know that's bullshit. My worth and my identity isn't defined by you. I know my worth and I know I'm beautiful and funny and cool and I know I'm enough. But ultimately that is what this is about. For me at least. You have your own work you need to do and I hope you figure out what that is and you do it but I know for me this is about once and for all really learning to love myself permanently. I've been toying with that for a couple years now and i think I've made little progress and sometimes I made a lot of progress. But this is my battle. I win this thing. And the enemy is a loser so I need to stop burdening myself with the enemy's yoke of slavery. Because freedom is knocking on all of our doors and we continue to choose slavery. I feel so lucky that God does it his way. And i feel so lucky that his way is in my best interest every damn time. We have a good, good father.

I don't even think it's you I miss anymore, though watching you go was to see my soul splinter. It's the false promise of danger and safety your humbled eyes offered that has left me wandering. My fears..inhibitions falling into those black wells to be eaten alive..like I am now. I hate waking up with your face to color my sad thoughts..your lost mustache kissing my invisible wounds. The city has you, and I don't believe a soul can be owned, but you have parts of me, parts that still hope..and so does the city. I don't know why, when I wake with nothing on my mind but coffee and words, that you are there too, drinking your black coffee and stepping out for a cigarette. I wish I could smoke a Marlboro Red to jog my memories of you..taste those days and nights of pure existence. Longing like I'd never felt. Sadness like I'd only seen in a mirror..sadness I thought would recognize me. So, I have a third cup of the black tribute.