Moving on

I’m trying to find comfort in the fact that you have genuinely made me stronger.

It’s not a cliche. It’s falling apart and building back up all at the same time. Maybe with walls of iron this time, so that nothing like this can ever happen again. Maybe with a heart of steel so that I won’t  feel anything ever again.
I’m trying to find it uplifting and not just heartbreaking; the fact that no one else could possibly ever hurt me as bad as you did. And you won’t read shit because it’s all right in front of your nose and you still wouldn’t see it, but at least the words are there. so  just maybe one day you won’t be able to say you had no idea. Though there’d probably be some good mannered excuse anyway. You didn’t know, what could you do, you were there in words, but no longer in spirit.

And it’s allright. Because whether it’s by going numb, or feeling everything at once and splintering into a million pieces I have to get over this


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