This year.

This damn year.

This year has dripped dry
with growing and stretching,
ripping and breaking.

But in the end

there is the loving,
there is the leaving,
and there is
the letting go.

And even through the burned hands
and calloused hearts

there is the
letting go.

—  Michelle K., This Damn Year.
and if you ever miss me,
I hope you scream at the stars
for not granting your wish,
and you swear at the moon for
not bringing me closer to you,
and you curse at the sun
because you can’t see what I’ve become -
you were always so good at
hiding your emotions
but if you ever miss me,
I hope you have the guts
to let the universe know.
if you ever miss me,
I hope somehow you manage
to let me go.
—  if you ever miss me // r.e.s
You’re right, I moved on. But you’re also the one who left me, you didn’t want me. I loved you, I fought for you. I still do, but I was so tired of crying every night. Feeling my constellations and the stars you gave me fall through my tears. So I got off my ass and did something about it. Being with you taught me a lot. It taught me not to be with you.
—  confessions i should say
You don’t get to do that.” she screamed, “You don’t get to tell me you love me, that you want to be with me, and then just leave. You can’t tell me that you’ll love me forever and then fall in love with her so quickly, and get over me even quicker. You’re not allowed to replace me like I’m nothing, because I wasn’t always nothing to you.
—  // A.K - Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #20
So when people leave, I’ve learned the secret: let them. Because, most of the time, they have to.
Let them walk away and go places. Let them have adventures in the wild without you. Let them travel the world and explore life beyond a horizon that you exist in. And know, deep down, that heroes aren’t qualified by their capacity to stay but by their decision to return.
—  The Staying Philosophy (Everyday Isa)