“#65: I wish you said goodbye instead of “let’s be friends.””

“May those eyes of yours I share my silence with, be cured of sadness, always.”

“You have brought me far enough from my fears that the only fear i have now is losing you.”

“I know you are the one because my heart and my brain feel the same about you”

“Years later I will learn the truth about your anger. How you never expected me to be strong enough to leave you. How you told your friends about it and they too wanted to believe in the idea that I was something to be kept. That I could be, at the least. You used to think of me as the closest to heaven you’d ever be. You painted me in soft shades of yellow with light cascading like waterfalls from the roots of my hairline to the ground beneath my feet and I deserved it. I was good to you above all things- through the terror and the way in which your love was far from kind sometimes. My skin never looked thicker when it healed and still I forgave you for it. I started replacing the word abuse with love in my sentences and you were proud of me for it. When my fingertips felt inclined to point somewhere you used your hands as a compass and they always led back to myself. Through the terror that came from loving you, I still did it well enough for you to never forget about it. And you never expected me to be strong enough to leave you. In my attempt to be the soft, fragile, full of light woman you learned to tear apart- I settled for your excuses. You were angry. You had a bad day. In my attempt to be the same woman you cautiously placed your belief in- I never did leave. I never could leave. Physically, I removed myself from your doorframe, wiped my fingerprints off your doorknob, hushed my voice from apologizing for crimes I did not commit. Emotionally, I am stuck in a revolving door. The nightmares haven’t stopped. Years later I will come to learn that the difference between abuse and love is a blurred line sometimes. Years later I will reflect and think to myself about all the ways in which I loved you far and beyond what you deserved. Years later the ghost of the man who broke down my walls in all the wrong ways will fall asleep beside me as a reminder of the uphill battles I’ve fought in this life. I loved you more than you deserved. I should have loved me instead.”

“Sometimes what you’re most afraid of doing is the very thing that will set you free.”

“My heart is so tired.”

“Thank you for leaving. In the absence of you, I have learned to love myself more.”

“Life doesn’t always introduce you to the people you want to meet. Sometimes life puts you in touch with the people you need to meet – to help you, to hurt you, to leave you, to love you, and to gradually strengthen you into the person you were meant to become.”

“No documentary can capture my soul, no movie will deliver my pain to the audience, not truly; the way my tears sparkle on my cheeks at night, how my heart dies with me in bed, how love always betrays me, how much I give and how lightly happiness sustains me. No documentary can explain my aching, my belongingness, my charisma, and my melancholy. No one could paint the world I carry in between my lungs. What kind of life I’ve chose for myself. How misunderstood I felt, how little I was. What kind of burden my heart was for me, how I prayed for another one. No one will tell my story like it was; like I loved too much and it got me nowhere, like I faked my patience. How mad I was that I was not like other women or that I felt guilty all the time. I never gave myself the time or kind words. It seemed childish. No documentary will portrait my loneliness. The training I constantly put my brain and heart though. Closing my mouth a little more, screaming in my head more. But I would lie in every documentary and in every biography for a little bit of attention, for a little bit of passion. ,”

“There are many different kinds of happiness. I want to be so awfully happy that I never need to write poetry again.”