I was told people spiritually grow in direct relation to their willingness to face and rectify errors. The ability to convert their failures into assets.
I love sitting quietly thinking about the daze of my life, unearthing old errors to bring failures back to present. For me to treasure; to hold close.
“Would you change anything? Would you do it all over again? Or would you give away falling in love to avoid the inevitable pain of heartbreak?”
Seriously? You wanna get all “Lord Tennyson” with me? “Tis better to have loved and lost,” indeed. Fuck you. Fuck him. He didn’t love that one.
The worst part is chronic loneliness. I’m forever broken, torn, damaged; shattered and destroyed by being imprisoned by a headful of memories.
Memories cut me. Not hearing her voice is deafening. Not feeling her touch is paralyzing. Not receiving her love leaves me utterly hopeless.
“Would you change anything? Would you do it all over again? Or would you give away falling in love to avoid the inevitable pain of heartbreak?”
I’m not sure. At times, the pain is so penetrating, I’d barter my soul with the devil to avoid it, but being in love with her was the apex of my life.
Not everything can be fixed. It’s like death. You’re gonna have to learn how to walk away. You’re gonna have to learn how to live without her.
I’m sorry for your loss. It sucks, but you’ve reached out too many times with no response not to get the hint. I wonder whether she reads them.
“Would you change anything? Would you do it all over again? Or would you give away falling in love to avoid the inevitable pain of heartbreak?”
It’s shit like this that separates the men from the boys. Those that do not recover are people who cannot or will not be honest with themselves.
