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Of course I live in the past, that’s where you are. I could never leave you behind. I hold memories of you dearly. You still are everything to me. Until death. Even in death. Even beyond.

I am the architect of my own destruction.

I have spent the best part of the last 5 years in utmost denial. I have lied to myself to the upmost degree. I have punished myself with deprivation of truth. I have refused to even entertain the mere existence of the slightest thought of you. I have bound my soul to forbid any memory of you from every resurfacing. I have killed my essence born from any love I had for you… any love I have for you. Yet I saw you last night, for just a moment, and memories came crashing down.

Fyi, moving on does not mean never looking back. It means when doing so, being met with the absolute certainty that the path you are on is the right one and that you would not go back for the world.

Le drame de ma vie, confondre être choisie et être chérie.

And next time you want to tell him how badly you want to marry him, please remember his reaction the last time you broached the subject. Please remember how when you said « should we get married? » he answered « what for? »

We are oceans apart /

Oh how I suffer from anticipatory grief now. I was always a tormented girl, but every since meeting you… it’s like drowning from the shore. The idea of potentially living in a world where you no longer breathe… I am at loss for words

To be seen, to be known and still be chosen.

Of course I laugh too hard and love too intensely, I was an almost-dead 13 year-old and now I am fully healed 24 year-old making time for the years death almost stole from me.

My favorite sentence ever, the one I aspire to follow like a Bible verse is « trail of failure or museum of trying? ». What is life if not putting yourself out there? What is life if not facing the vulnerable state of trying again and again because the goal is bigger than the path?

The thing is… I don’t need him to go to war for me, I can fight my own battles /