How I really feel. If I could just say how I feel without judgment and without a response from you. You don’t need to fix me or make me feel better or even try to pretend like you understand. You don’t. You can’t. And I don’t want you to. I just want to be heard.
I carry this burden every where. Every day. If I could only tell you.
I got lots of jealous lovers that all wish they had me back
Got a pistol for a mouth, my old mama gave me that
Making my own road out of gravel and some wine
And if I have to fall then it won’t be in your line
Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you.
Everything was okay today, but I am not feeling okay. I think that when you lose something or someone you care about, you die a little bit inside. I think that it takes a long time to feel okay again.
“You become a house where the wind blows straight through, because no one bothers the crack in the window or lock on the door, and you’re the house where people come and go as they please, because you’re simply too unimpressed to care. You let people in who you really shouldn’t let in, and you let them walk around for a while, use your bed and use your books, and await the day when they simply get bored and leave. You’re still not bothered, though you knew they shouldn’t have been let in in the first place, but still you just sit there, apathetic like a beggar in the desert.”
Charlotte Eriksson, You’re Doing Just Fine
Loneliness is only an opportunity to cut adrift and find yourself. In solitude you’re least alone.
Love yourself… sometimes you need reminders.