Maybe all men are a drug, and they can pick you up or make you crash so hard. That is my addiction, I think, the high. Feeling that someone might care, just a little or even a bit. I believe that the hardest thing to let go of is something you never truly had. That which was dangled just out of reach, teasing you, making you feel like you could love having that which you never felt you deserved. Love.
When do you stop, is it when you’ve tried everything you know you possibly can without giving your soul, or do you give that too? When have you done everything you can? How do you know when it is time to give up? Pack up and rebox yourself?
Pain is a funny thing. If you keep on smiling no one can see the scars on your soul, and if you keep on pretending, that which you feel will surely go away, will it not? How long do you have to pretend to be okay before you actually are? What is the point of all of this if we are meant to repress that which we feel, cause society wants you to smile through the tears on your soul and the cracks in your being.
If you cry and no one is there to comfort you, does it really matter? More importantly, do you really matter?
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