We become so wrapped up in nostalgic memories, that they begin comfort us to sleep. We wear them like blankets coiled around our bodies. We know without them we’ll let ourselves freeze to our death. The escape goats we used to play on long ago, cycle back around to remind us we’re still as real as we once were. Although, I feel loneliest underneath my covers each night, the tears I let fall help rock me to sleep. The suppressed realization that lies under layers and layers of development over the years, tends to unravel during each relapse. Regardless that I acknowledge my true self deep inside. Regardless that I find myself most at ease while enduring a relapse. Regardless that I know I’m constantly craving what I hate the most about myself.
out of the dozen poor souls i’ve dated, i’ve broken up with each, been unhappy with each, made each unhappy when i left. i’m starting to realize that maybe for now i’m meant to be alone, and maybe that’s okay. me with my strong will and my vivacious wanderlust. my heart is still too wild to give…
“But you can’t give your heart to a wild thing; the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they’re strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That’s how you’ll end up if you love a wild thing. You’ll end up looking at the sky. But believe me, it’s better to look at the sky than to live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.” -Truman Capote
“I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they’re right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together”—Marilyn Monroe (via foreversunshine87)