I always though breaking up with you would be like ripping off a band-aid. That it would be quick and painless or something. We were together for nine months. I knew after four that I would end up leaving you, it was all I could think about, I couldn’t forget it. So eventually I did.
I hate these feelings; jealousy is my least favorite emotion. I want what you have, but I also want you to have what you want, but those cannot coincide. I am unfortunately creating all of these ideal situations inside of my head, where we’re both happy and have what we want, but this absolutely will
I’m only sixteen, but……… I’m afraid I’ll never experience love. Of any kind. Ever. I’ve been depressed for years. I act okay. And I’m great at acting, but…I’m not. Every day I wake up, and I just want to cry. Because I think to myself “Why, God? Why am I still alive? Why am I
I hate you. You are nothing. You abused me and all of your children. They should have never let you out of prison. You are nothing but a dirty convicted sex offender. You shoved my face into food and forced me to eat it. You are disgusting. I hope you go back to prison so
I was the one who broke up with you. It was a mistake, I know that now. But I want you now. I need you. Bronson, please. I don’t know how to tell you myself, so I’ll just sit back and wait for now. I love you, always. -A Related Post To The One And
I still miss you. I still want you. I still think about you. Maybe one day I’ll be better. You’ll be better. Maybe we’ll be better for each other. Maybe we’ll find our way back to one another. Maybe we won’t. I hardly believe in fate, but my heart was certain about you. Maybe my