that time of the night when i let myself come undone. just for a while.
i don’t think the sadness ever truly goes away. i think we simply get used to it. or get better dealing with it. or we don’t.
maybe it’s better this way. to forget what we have become, in order to keep alive the memory of what we had once been.
it’s ok right? as long as i don’t ask for more. don’t expect more.
when you realize that you’re only there through a series of super last-minute sheer lucks.
better but not enough, and i’m always stuck with the possibility that ‘i could have’.
i will learn to hate it until it becomes an automatic response to avoid it.
i can’t do this anymore.
i can’t do a lot of things anymore.
i wish i have the confidence to tell myself that i am that person you need to care for you.
why is it so hard to be just fine and dandy.
why does everything feel like a lie when you’re all alone at night.
actually it’s not ok to be ‘not ok’ because no one likes being ‘not ok’.
anyway maybe the key words here are “….as long as you don’t stay there.”
so i guess this is definitely not ok anymore.
it is the small things that eventually become the big things. baby steps. things don’t just change overnight.