I seem to be easily hurt, as if I'm covered in bruises, and the usual day to day activities and tasks pinch at those already sore spots. I'm constantly lonely. I'll entertain the thought of talking to you, then dismiss it. You really aren't close to me anymore. You're busy, I know. I do not blame. I just think.
My heart seems like it's thumping against my chest constantly. It's exploding every second. Deep breaths. Sad eyes. I wish you'd reconsider, rather than think of it black and white. God, we are different. It seems I'm meant to persistently yearn for what I cannot have.
I finished my short story, and I'm quite proud. It doesn't even matter if it is terrible, at least I finished it. I tried, and I got to my goal.
Now to do that with every other part of my life....
You learn things about life everyday. Sometimes we learn them later than we'd like.
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