You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.
Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena. (via thelovejournals)
Source: thelovejournals
tired of feeling afraid to explain what’s wrong
tired of feeling like i’m not good enough for someone who doesn’t deserve me.
When people leave, their presence stays behind, in all the things they did. A sweet essence of their being, lingering in spaces that were once filled by them.
Departure is not the saddest part though, but the continous memories that your mind keeps playing afterwards, is the the hardest. The pain that stings your heart when your morning starts without their voice waking you up, eating breakfast alone without them smiling at you from across the table, leaving home without their goodbye, coming back to an empty house from work and the worst of all is when you feel their absence beside you in bed at night. That is when your tears drown you into an ocean of grief and sorrow, slowly drifting you to sleep, which becomes your temporary safe harbor until the next morning when that pain consumes you again.
Source: wnq-writers.com
