Vulnerable to be teared into a hundred million pieces.
I always found comfort in putting my faith, my answers, and my decisions into myself- what people said never stabbed me so. I'm getting tired, really tired.
Tired to the point where I don't know if I feel accomplished or incomplete. I can't tell the difference between happiness and anger, it's all the same. My heart feels like a time bomb- ready to explode any minute. My daily routines are whack and a ticking heart doesn't live, I guess.
"To be lonely is a habit like smoking or taking drugs. And I've quit them both, but man, was it rough."
I can't find the words to explain how I really feel right now,
but this is what a paper crane must feel after being crumpled up and thrown into a corner.
Fact Of The Day: I'll admit, I'm struggling- but I don't know from what.
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