Nov 29, 2020
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i am both happy and sad at the same time, and i don’t know how that can possibly be. i’ve been sitting in my car fluctuating between crying and smiling, and i am unsure of what to make of my own duality. i guess i contain multitudes or whatever. for a black-and-white thinker, that’s a hard concept to grasp. but i’m working on it.
i’m having such a hard time during this period of my life. there has been a lot to deal with- too much really, to the point where it has overwhelmed me and caused me to become a burden to the one i love. being aware of my own role in this demise, as i actively actualize it, has brought me a very specific and excruciating kind of pain and self resentment. but it’s also brought me to a sobering level of awareness. this is an opportunity for some much-needed healing, as well as growth in areas that i have been struggling in for a long time. my heart might get broken, and if it does, then it’s going to hurt like hell. but it’s gonna be okay. this is happening for a reason. i’m gonna restore myself through this, and i’m gonna be okay. it might not feel okay. but i know it will be anyway. i’m gonna make it through this. i’m telling myself now, before i get sad again... it’s gonna be okay.
Looks good, babe!
Merry Christmas
Feliz Natal
Feliz Navidad
Mesa Arch by totalstranger
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Careful steps
I’m falling apart again. It’s that hair grabbing, nose running, eyes streaming kind of sad. Whole body contortions, damp spots on my shirt, sheets clenched between my fists, and more snot than I ever thought I could produce. The emptiness overflows from the hole in my chest, and its cold sickness sweeps through my insides and threatens to overwhelm me. There is nothing romantic about a broken heart. It is ugly and cruel. I have been locked in my room for hours, exorcising the wounded remains of a lost love out of my fragile body. Banging my head with closed fists, hardcover books, anything firm, in hopes of some feeling of relief from the pain I do not have language for. Stifling my body-shaking sobs with the same blanket he gave me for my nineteenth birthday; the reminder of better days makes me howl even harder into the blue fleece. It’s been six months on Tuesday. Despite the relentless passing of time, I keep finding myself back in the same old place. Raw, empty, and hopeless. He broke me. My once concrete dreams and aspirations for the future evaporated along with his presence in my life. I don’t know who I am without him. I don’t think I will ever be the same again.