I don’t know what love is.
What a shame it is; only being able to appreciate something to the fullest, after it’s over. To look back on something that at one point you thought was horrible, only to realize you’d give anything to go back…. If I only knew those were the glory days.
Life is like a swing. When you’re little, you have protection all around you to keep you safe and people pushing you to succeed. Then you grow up and you can do it by yourself. As time moves on, you can get higher and higher and you feel like you can fly into
the clouds. But then, gravity finds a way to pull you back down again and you have to keep pumping to go back up and you just hold on with all your might so you don’t fall, partly wishing you could just let go to see if you could finally fly.
This is what closure feels like. It’s like you shut the door on the person. The relationship. You hear the click and you walk away. Though, it’s not nearly soon enough to completely walk away. I’m gonna need some strength not to walk right back. But, it’s different. Like I’m free. I needed this. I love this. I’m doing this because I love myself.
I love myself.
I’ve come to terms with our love. It was deep and meaningful. I fell and never got up. It was a selfish and wrong kind of love but it was our love. Only ours. And now, it’s over. I know that I will never be able to see you and walk away. Even seeing someone who looks like you, I miss you all over again. I’m never gonna be strong enough to say I hate you or I’m completely over it. But I guess that’s how first loves happen.
It’s torn me down, made me forget every carefree thought and feeling. Every laugh out of pure happiness and gratitude. I use to be a person I was proud of, thankful for. Then one day, all the tears and sorrow washed me away. I’m shipped wrecked and broken and I don’t even know how I got here. Even worse, it feel as if I have forgotten how to swim.
I’m sick of missing someone who has me as there second thought. Remembering memories of us that aren’t even in your head anymore, never mind your heart.
But here I am.
Heart on the floor wishing you’d finally care enough to pick it up.
But here I am again.
The one who loved too much, talking to myself.