I really feel for my younger self.. the one who was full of love, hope, and so many dreams. She believed everything would fall into place someday. Now, somewhere along the way, things didn’t turn out how she imagined, and that’s what hurts the most.
Sometimes it’s not even about them leaving, it’s about how easily they did it… like the memories, the bond, the love you shared didn’t weigh enough to make them stay. Maybe it’s not me that feels disrespected… it’s the love I gave.
Everyone talks about the freedom of living alone in another city. Noone talks about the days you’re sick with noone around, coming home exhausted from work nd feeling completely alone, carrying everything by urself, nd the quiet rooms that make you realize how lonely it can get.