How is it Right, When it Feels So Wrong?


Shared by noraroars.

How is right, when it feels so wrong?

I’ve been writing about hurt for so long, yet I still struggle everyday to confide in my hurt or to ignore it. How can a natural feeling be so painful, so sickening that it can ravage any other feeling that gets in its way? It’s as if my feelings are fighting each other until exhaustion and even then they keep me up late at night, thinking about you.

I no longer think about memories of you and I together. I think I finally got past the fact that we couldn’t give each other the chance I sought for so desperately. All I choose to think about it is the essence of your being, as if you were some made up person I longer can find but continue searching for. When I could finally stop thinking I saw your face on every corner I turned on or when I saw someone with the same car as yours pass me by – I thought I was over it.

The unfortunate part was that there was never a “you and I.” It was simply just “it.” What started with lust quickly became shattered dreams and hope. I tinkered with the idea that with enough “fairy hope dust” I could fly into your heart and make it my haven. I didn’t realize that when I came knocking you couldn’t hear it at first, but when I starting banging you added an extra lock.

What frighten you even more was that I was willing to wait. I sprinkled my hope on your doorsteps with sweet gestures and meaningful texts (although drunk with courage might I add). I was met with silence then I feared for my vulnerability. For the first time I was letting go of my feelings, I wrote them on your skin with every touch. So when I look back at you I keep seeing my feelings written all over you but the part that hurts the most is how hard you’ve worked to erase it all, as if I didn’t exist.

I want to stop telling myself to forget you, I can’t stand to remind myself to not think of you, I hate pretending that I’m over you, but it’s the only right thing to do. My love for you has caused to me to hate myself. I’m so tired of beating myself up over what I have for you. If I could stop wishing I wouldn’t have to shutter at your name or have my heart race thinking about you.

Even as I write now, I can only think about you. I’ve hardly touched on how deep this hurts, which is the reality I’ve given myself.

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