even when i’ve learned to live with insecurities, i still am afraid that i may, one day, be losing you. i, sometimes, wonder if i’m capable of meeting what you desire. i wish i was a little bit skinnier, sexier like i used to. perhaps, that would diminish the voices in my head.
sometimes, when we sleep, i hold you a little tighter. it’s my way of reassuring myself that you aren’t going anywhere. that when you say you’ll stay, you mean it. and not once, did you fall short of that promise.
everyday is a struggle between trusting myself to trust you. yet, you do not give any reason to doubt you. you fight through my insecurities. you love me even more when i do not have the courage to give. you’re open to only me taking even when it is unfair.
the reasons i love you are also the reasons you make me realize that i shouldn’t be embarrassed of myself. thank you my love, for choosing me.
if someone chooses to stay after you’ve laid out everything that happened with you on the times years and distance have separated the two of you, and still is willing to take you or even wait for you in spite of how damaged you’ve become.
it’s something. that counts for something.
Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It is a very mean and nasty place, and I don’t care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me or nobody is going to hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard you hit, it is about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward, how much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done! Now, if you know what you’re worth, then go out and get what you’re worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hit, and not pointing fingers saying you ain’t where you are because of him, or her, or anybody. Cowards do that and that ain’t you. You’re better than that! I’m always gonna love you, no matter what. No matter what happens. You’re my son, you’re my blood. You’re the best thing in my life. But until you start believing in yourself, you ain’t gonna have a life.
– Rocky Balboa
After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
You learn that love doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t always mean security.
You begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promises.
You begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes ahead with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child.
You learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much, so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
You learn that you really can endure.
That you really are strong, and you really do have worth- and you learn.
You learn and you keep learning because with every goodbye you learn.
— Veronica A. Shoffstal
Sitting here in the dark again, hating the fact that it has to be this way. Hating, but accepting. Taking it for what it is. Sometimes even with a smile on my face. That either makes me a good sport or remorseless individual. I can see either one being true. I got incredibly upset today. And though I did things to distract myself, the feeling is still there. I want to scream at you, but I can’t. I want to be happy at these last developments, but I can’t. Sometimes I feel like you don’t know me at all. Do you?
The worst part is knowing that it was my fault; that I could have done something different—something better. I could have said less and done more. I could have swallowed my pride and chosen my battles with more precision. I could have embraced compromise. I could have spent more time simply enjoying what we had.
But it’s too late, and that is the worst part.
.. despite being a pain
i still believe that someone would be brave enough to face the monster in me…
and would just hug me tight when i’m about to mutate…
You must accept that’s who he really is.
You must accept you cannot be his
unless he is yours. No compromise.
He is a canvas on which paint never dries;
a clay that never sets, steel that bends
in a breeze, a melody that when it ends
no one can whistle. He is not who
you thought. He’s not. He is a shoe
that walks away: “I will not go where you
want to go.” “Why, then, are you a shoe?”
“I’m not. I have the sole of a lover
but don’t know what love is.”
“Discover it, then.”
“Will I have to go where you go?”
“Be patient with you?”
You have to hear what he is telling you
and see what he is; how it is killing you.