I’d love to say that I’m fine, that I’ve been fine for as long as I’ve been telling people so. It’s only when I’m alone that I feel the sadness that’s still there now, as opposed to all the time; it was always pressing down on my shoulders or nagging at the back of my head. But it’s still there. I wish I could say that I didn’t care anymore. I go back and read things I wrote on this blog years (yes, years) ago, about you and I and my mind. It’s fascinating, really, I can still sense the pure miserable nature of my writing which brings me back. I know I’ve come a long way, but I can’t help but feel as though the path ahead is even longer.
I was finally starting to get over the fact that you weren’t mine anymore, but now you expect me to accept you being someone else’s?