the truth is i found who i was looking for. i found the person i wanted to find before my life broke 9 years earlier.
i've been so emotionally upset with myself since i've admitted this. this horrifying *fact* that i've been crippled all these years. that i could be afraid and wallowing. that i could be scratching at walls and grieving as i go about convinced that i'm the strongest person in the world. that love is this thing that we have once and only once and if it's lost it never comes back. this precious glass gift that shatters forever. and when it breaks it breaks me, too. planecrashed boatsunk carwrecked. i've felt broken. and that's such movie-ola crap and i want to take it all back and be goofy and lovable as once i was and india took me there and then she left and everything just hung until the strings of depression pulled me taught and. fuck. i've been sleeping right through my regrets. and through my desires. such shit. i've stared love straight in the face and i stared it down. what now what now.
it's cold in here. i'm nurturing myself. licking the sadness from my skin. cleaning. cooking rice. waiting up so i can get hot water for a bath. it's these little therapeutic things i can forget to make time for.
friday i revisit the fractured fairy-tale. and i get to hold two bright little futures in my arms. and maybe they'll wake me up.
this life that ended at 18. and all the things that make me cry. it's the end of this.