Eventually she’s right about one thing, I did this to myself. I purged my own existence (and hers) to make things right, to not have to let go of the only one that saw the true me and to whom I gave the true me that I’ve been shaping up for years with a bunch of shitstorms passing through has departed. Yes, I admit that I am no longer the same person. I would compare it to a ruin, but ruins still stand.
My future is narrow, bitter and solitary numb for anything relevant to love, cause I accept none aside from hers. I mourn, but yet forget to let go. I am truthfully running out of love for someone who was the first to make me feel wanted like it was a blessing to her when I touched her lips.
I would give anything to turn back time and re-live that same feeling, but dreams are dead end thoughts on invisible clouds.
— The Unbearable Lightness of Being - Milan Kundera (via classicbooks101)