I wish the pain was more tangible and compact that I could just scoop up and throw away in an unreachable distance — to never see nor feel it again and to take away the chance that it’ll come uninvited anytime of the day or haunt me in the middle of the night.
I thought I’d be better by now. And yet, the littlest of things that I’m probably overthinking (and should really have no business with) is making me curl up on my bed, covered in my favorite woven blanket, crying (now writing to soothe myself and get this heavy feeling out of my chest).
My systems, that I seemed to subliminally set up for failure, are *surprise* failing me. It seems like I designed them that way because I’m not truly ready to disconnect just yet. It gives me a sense of comfort that he’s still in my life somehow even if it’s just a view of my story on Instagram.
Reading that…I can’t believe I’m talking and acting this way. It doesn’t look good and it makes me feel small.
I should help myself move forward from this more actively by being strong enough again to feel his absence. And to do that, I need to cut him off.
I want to be new and lighter and full again.
I want to live my life excited about the future and not waiting on anyone from the past.
I need to carry myself out of this tunnel.
I need to be there for me.
telle rey
