Sometimes you just know.

A touch doesn’t feel the same.

The safety you once soaked in, is gone.

Looking into their eyes makes yours fill with tears, remembering every harsh word, every lie, every moment you’re heart felt like it was being ripped to pieces in front of you.

I’ve had this feeling before.

I had to start over.

I don’t want to.

I have exhausted every excuse, every plea, every attempt.

I have given everything to keep trying, to keep holding on.

Everything except myself.

And I got really fucking close.

Is it selfish to say that I won’t give up who I am to save something that needs a different me?

I’ve never been good at faking it.

I just wanted to prove I was worth it, that I was good enough.

Maybe I just wanted to prove it to myself.

But you don’t own me. I’m ashamed to say I was more afraid of being struck than to defend that truth.

I wouldn’t even say that I own myself.

The only thing that owns me, is the commitment to see this story until its end.

My days may hold only sorrow. I’m 31. I haven’t seen much else.

Or maybe they hold more.

All I know is,

I am bound to one thing, and one thing only.

Living.